


Statesman: The Secret Service

by ParylTeia



Series: Statesman: the Secret Service [1]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParylTeia/pseuds/ParylTeia
Summary: You are an experienced Statesmen specializing in intelligence and covert monitoring. When most of Kingsman get decimated and they need rebuilding, several Statesmen agents move to England to help them. There’s opportunities to become field agents while the agencies try to restore numbers to ensure the fragile peace that has settled upon the world. Meanwhile, Agent Whiskey has to deal with his actions during the Golden Circle mission. Skip to chapter 5 for eventual Agent Whiskey x reader.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey/Reader
Series: Statesman: the Secret Service [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1760641
Comments: 17
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: So I am a big Roxy Morton fan and since (spoilers for Kingsman 2) she was killed in the Kingsman sequel, I held a grudge against the sequel and the Statemen. Fast forward a few years and I fell in love with The Mandalorian (really Baby Yoda) and then found and got obsessed with Mando x reader fan fiction…which turned into Javier Pena x reader and now Agent Whiskey x reader obsession. So a big circle back to Kingsman!  
> Anyways. First time I’ve written fanfiction in many many years…hopefully you’ll like. And thank you for all you fanfic writers especially Pedro Pascal lovers. Getting me through this quarentine  
> I can’t bring myself to re-watch Kingsman 2 so sorry if anyone is out of character. After watching some youtube clips of Kingsman 2, I guess I can’t get around it anymore. Agent Whiskey is kind of a jerk. Haha. Aww. So let’s give him some character growth! Eventually! Slow burn as I want the characters to have developed more before getting into a relationship.
> 
> I'm in between calling this series Relentless or Statesman: The Secret Service. Since it has more of a plot like Kingsman, I named it after that.
> 
> Summary: You are an experienced Statesmen agent specializing in intelligence and covert monitoring. When most of Kingsman get decimated and they need rebuilding, several Statesmen agents move to England to help them rebuild. There’s opportunities to become field agents while the agencies try to rebuild numbers to ensure the fragile peace that has settled upon the world. Also, Agent Whiskey doesn’t betray the Statesmen in this version and he, Merlin and Roxy are alive. Agent Whiskey appears in this chapter, and I try to explain it in chapter 2. 
> 
> Rating: PG? Teen?
> 
> Pairing: Agent Whiskey x reader (eventually)
> 
> Warnings: Mention of death, cursing throughout the fic
> 
> Words: 3.1k

“Agent Y/N” Champ says as you answer the phone. 

“Yes, sir?” Not exactly sure why he’s calling. You had no idea Agent Champagne knew you exited let alone your name and office phone number.

“You did great work for the Poppy case. With your advanced warning and intelligence, we were ready to help the Gallahads and Merlin and ensure Tequila didn’t kill them on site!” He chuckled. 

“No problem, sir. Just doing my job.” 

“You are far too modest, Y/N. Your work has saved millions of people and the lives of our agents hundreds of time.” You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you, “I also know you’ve been taking the self-defense, weapons and espionage training courses. At least the ones open to all agents.” 

“Yes, sir. I can’t be effective if I don’t know what the field agents have to do and go through.”

He clicked his tongue. “Spoken like a true Statesman. Now, Y/N, we have a large personnel issue as we try to help our brothers and sisters at Kingsman.”

“Of course, sir. I’ve been keeping up with the briefs. Would you like some help with coordinating and ensuring our assets are well distributed?” 

He chuckled, “No, no, we have enough people working on that.” You furrowed your brows in confusion and waited for him to continue. “I would like to sponsor you for the next field agent trials.” 

You were shocked. This was the last thing you thought the leader of your agency would ask of you. Intelligence was a good challenge for you for several years. As you got bored with it but continued to excel at your job, you took up weapons and the more physical part of the agency to keep challenging yourself and developing your skills. You were thinking of taking an engineering and science course next. 

“Well, what do you think?” Champ continued. 

You took a deep breath, “I never thought of myself as a field agent, sir. But I’m honored to be given a chance to train and do the trials to become one.”

“Good. This will be a difficult trial as there will be more than the normal amount of participants and more than the normal amount to join. But we, of course, will be looking for the best of the best.”

“Yes, sir. What are the next steps, sir?” 

“Pack your stuff. Just the minimal things you need. Your flight leaves in 2 hours.” He then hung up, dismissing you. 

You sat there in silence for a few minutes, staring blankly at the report you were working on before Champagne called. You were trying to recall all the jobs you had done in the past, all the cartels and super villains you had researched, as well as the training and times you got your ass kicked during sparring and smiled as you remembered when you finally brought someone on their back, your knee on their throat. All this was jumbling through your head as a knock on your door and your direct supervisor walked in. 

She took a seat as you watched her come in. “How do you feel, Y/N?” 

You took another deep breath and painted your mask on, “Good. Ready.” You pretended to believe truly with a smile. 

She shook her head, “As a field agent, you’ll have to take on different personas. But, here, right now, be yourself. You can’t lose yourself in the training. Your head, personality, and skills are what brought you here. Champ and the field agents are interested in you, not a fake version of you.” 

You listened, nodding, and let your tears fall. Your supervisor had been your mentor. She noticed you itching to do more than sit at the computer and first got you into the other department’s training, despite how unusual that was and how most agents stuck to their field. “I’m not crying because I’m sad, or very overwhelmed. I just…am feeling a lot of different emotions. I’ve been here in California my whole career, most of my life. I’ve never been to the South, let alone Kentucky and even though I’ve helped the field agents from my desk for so long, I truly don’t know how they get to where they are.” 

“It’s good to let your tears out here. Despite how tears aren’t a sign of weakness, it’ll be easier to not be a target of the immature morons you will probably be training with. Even though I know you can and will likely kick their ass.” You smiled at her confidence. “We’ll miss you here, Y/N. We wish you the best and hope you make it. If you don’t get all the way to the top, there are many other opportunities that will open for you now. But you’ll always have a home here if you want to come back. Now, please ensure your reports are organized in a manner that can be turned over easily and get going. You don’t have much time.” 

You nodded and dried your tears quickly. “Yes, Ma’am,” You quickly hugged her and got back to work. 

\--

Although California had been your home for a while, you didn’t have anyone else to say good bye to. Your family was gone, and you had hardened yourself to the point where you didn’t have any friends and were okay with it. Sure, you made acquaintances and were easy to talk and be with. You knew a lot about your coworkers as they confided in you more often than not. You knew there was probably a hole in your heart, but it was just as well you weren’t actively filling it as you had no distractions going into training. 

\--

You arrived at the Kentucky headquarters, seen pictures of it, had an idea of where to go. But you were quickly met by a well built, lean mustachioed man in a Stetson and black Boise western suit, as you started walking in the direction you would’ve if you were there as an intelligence analyst. He blocked your path and you stopped in front of him. He looked you up and down and gave you a sultry smile. Before he could lay his signature moves on you, “Agent Whiskey,” You said in acknowledgement. 

His eyes looked at you ominously while his smile and body language remained relaxed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, lil’ lady.” 

“I am Agent Y/N. Reporting for Statesman training.” 

As this dawned on him, his expression changed and he smiled. “Ah, you’re the one who’s saved my ass more times than I can count. That’s why you know who I am. You sound a lot different in person.” 

“Yes, sir. Everyone does.” 

He chuckled, “All right. Follow me. Although Champ’s your sponsor, he’s busy right now so I’ll lead you down to the others.” He led you away from the Distillery and into the storage area, placed his palm on a hand reader in a slat in a barrel. Hidden doors opened to reveal elevator doors. You both walked in and the small box started moving down into the depths of the earth. You kept focusing on your breath, even though you knew a lot of secrets, this was one not many were privy too. 

“How long you been workin’ at Statesmen?” Whiskey drawled in his Southern accent. 

“About 10 years,” you replied, “Was recruited straight out of college after I stumbled onto your servers when I was roaming the net.”  
He laughed again. “Ah, that was you who forced us to update all our security protocols. We must’ve been lucky you weren’t doing this for nefarious purposes.” He paused, “How’d ya end up on our server? I thought it was pretty tight to begin with.” 

You were surprised. Normally people didn’t ask you that. They asked you the mechanics of it, hacking, mostly how to help them improve as agents. You had to think back to the memories you normally didn’t think about and felt the words come out from that hollow spot in your chest. 

“My family was murdered about 8 years prior to that…but I didn’t know that until around that time. I was told it was a car accident. But they were collateral damage as hostages for a gang that specialized in creating mass destruction weaponry.” You said tonelessly, “I couldn’t stop looking for more information. Firewalls, secret sites, encryption, I didn’t let any of that stop me. I was relentless. Apparently Agent Champagne was working the case and I followed that thread. He became much more careful after that.” He turned to look at you now, and as the elevator doors opened you said, “Don’t worry, I only went through the base security of the Statesmen encryptions, but I guess not even civilians are supposed to do that, and that was when I was recruited into security and analytics.” You paused and before he could ask any follow up questions so you could seal the cracks that started to initiate in your heart, “How long have you worked here?” 

He threw a confused look at you. “I thought you would’a known? Eh, Security doll?” 

You gave a polite smile as you got out of the elevator and he led you onto a small subway cart with the Statesmen logo that zoomed off to your next destination, “I learned a while ago that it was better manners to pretend I didn’t already know someone.”

He looked at you with a challenging smile, “Well, let’s have it, what do you know about me. Or think you know about me.” 

“I don’t go digging into people’s personal information deeply unless there’s a reason to, so I only know what’s on your profile so that I can ensure I provide you information you can understand easily.”

“You callin’ me dumb?” 

“No, everyone just comprehends information in a different way. Jack Daniels. Codename Agent Whiskey. Top of the class of his trial and joined Statesmen 15 years ago. Originally weapons master of firearms, but that was too boring and usual for you. Became a master user of whips and lassos and egged the technicians to make you electrified weapons.” You laughed when you repeated the last part, the same way you did when you first read that a handful of years ago. 

“That’s why you already knew how I would want to take down the targets of the missions you’ve provided information on.” He smiled, “Most people don’t know how to deal with the lasso and whips part.”

“Well, I have to admit, those weapons classes were some of the hardest. I need to take more to become an adept user at them.”  
He started at you strangely, “I didn’t think they allowed analytics to take weapons classes,” 

You shrugged, “My supervisor pulled some favors to get me in.” 

The subway stopped and when you followed him into the elevators that went several floors up until you were on the main level and followed him as he walked you out and around the sprawling campus. 

“So, Analytical lady, what did you get from my profile that wasn’t explicitly stated?” He asked teasingly. 

You considered telling him he’s good at saving the world, but a bit of a jerk and an asshole. You settled for, “You’re a ladies man.” 

He howled with laughter, “I knew my reputation preceded me, but in actual files? That’s a lil unexpected. Just a lil bit.” He looked at you after he calmed down, “Why do you say that?” 

“Well I wanted to see how often you used your more unusual weapons to provide you some situations I thought they would be and would not be useful. Then I noticed even more unusual things in your profile. You requested one of your whips to be made out of velvet. You always turn your glasses to do not record in the middle of the night when you’re not on the mission, unless it’s the rare time another field agent is being your handler. Then you’re probably just showing off. You’ve requested all of your clothing to have a little pocket for, what I assume is a condom.” 

His smirk got bigger with each admission until he was chuckling, seemingly lost in thoughts of the memories elicited. “Aww, you got me there, hun. Did my profile charm you too, young lady? Is that why you know so much about me? Want to see what those girls are likin’?” 

You sighed internally. You knew what to expect. But witnessing it was different. “No, Agent, I’ve made assessments about every field agent I’ve written reports for and supported. And all of you have colorful quirks.” 

“I bet Tequila’s into some weird shit,” he laughed to himself before stopping in front of a large nondescript building. “Here’s where you’ll be situated during the rest of your training. Second floor, stairs on the right side.” 

“Thank you, Agent Whiskey” 

“You are most certainly welcome, darlin’”

~

You entered the room of candidates. They were chatting to each other and paid you no mind. You groaned internally, you were the oldest and one of a few women. There was only one bed left, closest to the common shower area, which was fine with you. You had only one thing on your mind. To become an agent and do good for the world in a different way then you used to.

“Candidates,” You heard the door enter and a voice ring out. You fell into formation with the others. The woman who entered had brown skin and dark brown short hair with glasses on her nose. “I am Agent Ginger Ale. I will be your master trainer for the duration of your training. I will be one of the people you need to impress in order to become a full agent.” She directed her last words at the boys who had started to laugh when they realized they would be trained by a woman. Their mouths closed but they still had looks of skepticism on their face. “I expect you all know why you’re here. And that you are expected to keep this discreet should you be discharged from training.” She handed each one a body bag. “Write your next of kin on the bag. This may be another reason you’re discharged from training” 

You walked back to your small bed with the bag and pulled out a sharpie. You had no next of kin. You had no idea if any of your extended family was still alive. You shrugged and wrote “No next of kin.” 

Ginger Ale recovered the bags from everyone and said “Settle in today. Your first task will be early in the morning. Meet at the lawn at 5AM.” Your face was impassive but internally you groaned again. That would be 2am your time as you had just arrived and hadn’t adjusted your internal clock.

Because of this, you were awake when you felt a sudden terrible warmth and the room filled with black smoke. Trying not to think about why such an unnatural fire occurred, you tried to think through the shock.

“EVERYONE, WAKE UP!” and fell into a fit of coughs from the amount of smoke you inhaled.

One of the males with dirty blonde hair mumbled loud enough “What’s the bitch nagging about?” 

You ignored the comment as you opened your trunk and found a scarf and a hankerchief. You tied the scarf around nose and mouth. You heard the others scrambling around you. The flames were spreading unusually fast. You remembered the fire extinguisher by your bed and tried to discharge it. Empty. You cursed and fell onto all fours as the sweat had soaked your clothing. You were the furthest from the door and checked each bed for an occupant. You didn’t know why, were reacting on instinct and gut. You found a body in the second to the last one. You grimaced and tried to feel for a pulse as your mind started getting fuzzy. You should get out of here, they wouldn’t give you a second glance, you thought. But the boy—at least the 18-21 year olds felt like boys to you—didn’t have a pulse. You thought about the body bags from earlier and the funerals of your family you attended and grimaced. A family should be able to mourn for you. You pulled the surprisingly light body off the bed and pulled his arm around your shoulders, dragging him outside of the room. You remembered where the stairs were from when Agent Whiskey dropped you off and as quickly as you could, made it outside into the clean air. 

As you finally made it out of the building you looked around with as much awareness as you could. You could feel your mind shutting down from the effort and lack of oxygen. “Ginger! Is there a medic? He-He has no pulse…but maybe it’s not too late.” 

She gave bent down and checked his pulse again and looked at you sharply. “It is too late, Y/N.” she snapped and you flinched. She looked at the rest of the candidates. 

“You all failed your fellow candidate down. Yes, you’re all supposed to be competing against one another. But you must also learn to look after one another, work as a team.” She pulled a sheet out of her bag and laid it on the body. You didn’t realize someone who at first appeared so gentle could be made of such steel. “Because if one of your other candidates were out in the field with you, you would want to make sure they weren’t the ones stabbing you in the back.” She glared at you all and walked away. 

You were in shock throughout the whole speech and as you began to process the information, you let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Your gut felt heavy. You had seen the bodies of your parents, your siblings, but you had never touched, let alone carried someone who had passed away. You felt like barfing but your limbs felt so heavy. 

Ginger came back in a black van carrying water. “Here,” she said with visible anger, as the rest of the candidates ran to her for much needed water. You watched as you saw 2 more people come out of the van to pick up the body and put in one of the bags you had all held earlier. “Y/N, you need water as well.” Ginger said as she walked up to you and gave you a water. When you didn’t take it and stared blankly ahead she said, “5AM is in 2 hours and you won’t have slept well. You’ll at least want to be as hydrated as possible.” One of the boys who was drinking water near you exclaimed loudly, “We still have to be ready by 5AM?!” as many of the candidates groaned. 

“Yes. You will get a couple hours of shut eye in this building as your barracks get cleaned up.” Ginger gestured to a neighboring building on the complex and went with the van and the body away. 

A/N: Probably more chapters of training or we get Agent Whiskey's POV next. We'll see!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Daniel's POV for an alternate version of events after he gets shot by Harry Hart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I kind of like alternating between the protagonist and Jack's POV. Shorter chapter at 1.5k words.

The last thing Jack Daniel remembered before waking up in a hospital room was pain. Damn his face and head had hurt like a mother-. The tube hissed and he was suddenly facing a beautiful woman with short hair, glasses, a lab coat, and a ribbon tied around her collar. 

“Hello Gorgeous, I’m Jack. What’s your name?” He said as he started walking towards the woman, looking her up and down. “How’d you like ta ride home on a real cowboy?” He continued on, not realizing the flirting was unwanted, “I’ve got a six pack of cold ones on ice and my roomie’s out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, Sugar.” 

The woman’s brows furrowed in empathy as she brought up a Polaroid, “I hate to do this to you, Jack.” 

“Who’s this pretty lady?”

“She’s dead. Cops said, wrong place. Wrong time.” 

He heard his diseased wife’s voice in his head suddenly, Hey honey, I’m heading to the grocery store. And an onslaught of memories hit him like a ton of bricks. When they first met. When he proposed. When they got married. They found out they were pregnant. The anger when he found out his wife and unborn child was murdered. The anger and agony stayed in every memory from that. Statesman training. Missions where he hurt drug users and cartels more than he needed to. Women. Missions in casinos. Meeting Eggsy. Dropping the antidote. Getting shot in the head by Harry Hart. 

Jack looked up. After kissing the photo, his first reaction was anger. 

“Ginger, godddamn butterfly guy shot me in the fuckin’ head!”

“Why would he do that?”

“Well, I’m guessing you didn’t fix him right!” He sighed, trying to think through the memories still filtering through him, feeling his heart get ripped to pieces again and again and again. “No, I’m sorry, Ging’” Ginger Ale looked at him, confused. “Goddamn butterfly guy caught on ter me. I…intentionally broke the vial of antidote.”

“What, why?” 

He replayed the security video he watched of the day in his head. Where his wife and unborn child was murdered. “I…wanted all of the drug users…dead.” He looked away, then yelled “They’re the scum of the earth!” His resolve hardened again and looked at Ginger. “Where the hell is that goddamn butterfly guy?” 

“Jack, I can’t tell you that now!” 

“I’ll figure it out myself.” He walked towards her screens but they suddenly turned black. 

“Ginger, turn them back on!”

“You know I can’t do that, Jack.” 

“Goddammit Ging’ this is why you won’t ever be a field agent!” 

“No, this is why I’d be a goddamn good agent. You’re not thinking straight, you’re letting your past and emotions get the best of you. You’re going to let millions of people die?! That’s not what the Statesman is about.” 

“Why, you—!”

“She’s right, Jack.” Champ said as he came into the room. He looked at Ginger Ale, “Thanks for calling,” he said, tapping his glasses. “I’ve got it from here. You’re dismissed.” 

Ginger Ale gave Jack one more look, nodded at Champ and then left the room.

Champ sighed and looked back at Jack. “You were really going to let millions of people die, Jack? You were going to help that psychopath, Poppy?” 

“There’d be so much peace without them drug users! All they cause is pain and suffering!” Jack said defensively, “And with drugs off the street, civilians would turn to whiskey! The Statesman revenue would be off the charts!” 

Champ looked at him quizzically, “Everyone who does drugs is a menace?”

“Yes!” Jack spat, angrily, pacing back and forth. “I can’t let Goddamn butterfly guy and Eggsy stop her—”

“Even Tequila?” 

Jack stopped. “What?”

“You really missed the reason why Tequila’s in a cryogenic state? It’s clear he’s suffering through the same side effects as the other folks who’ve used Poppy’s tainted drugs.” 

“Well, he shouldn’t ta!”

“Yes, he’s an agent on duty and probably shouldn’t have done drugs. But he doesn’t deserve to die from that. Yes, drugs are an issue that doesn’t have a good answer. But our agency is not about letting millions of people who haven’t hurt others die.” He sighed and looked more gently at Jack. “Tequila and others like him are not the reason your wife and unborn child died, Jack.” Jack looked defeated, “And there will always be people making and taking narcotics of some type even if all these people died. It doesn’t mean people will buy our products, which should be secondary to saving the world anyways.” 

Jack slumped in a nearby chair and put his hands in his head. “I need to avenge her, my family, Champ…”

“No, you need to grieve them. I let you throw yourself into the missions, the work, the women, thinking that was helping you. But it obviously wasn’t the right answer.” He sighed, “You’re one of our best and it’ll hurt to do this, but I’m pulling you from active duty. You’ll return here to Kentucky from New York for the foreseeable future. You’ll work with our mental health department and maybe you’ll do some paperwork. We’ll find other work for you to do. You almost let millions of people die, Jack. We have to reevaluate you.” Jack stared in shock at the sentence. “Now, let’s go. I’ll have to keep you in a cell until the Gallahads and Merlin finish their mission. I can’t trust you to stay put with how much this is effectin’ ya.” Jack nodded limply as Champ cuffed him and took him out of the lab. 

\--

The Kingsman saved the world. Tequila and other agents from the field, security, analytics, engineering, health, all over were relocating to London to help rebuild their agency. And Jack Daniels was stuck in Louisville, Kentucky. Determined, but slowly, getting back into good graces with Champ and the Statesman. It’s been a few months but he’s been settling in this new life with training wheels. He had weekly appointments with the Statesman psychologist, spent most of the days completing paperwork for the transfer of Statesman agents to Kingsman. He assisted with the lab technicians, including Ginger Ale, and trained with some of the younger agents.

He missed the field, the adrenaline and the problems he’d have to solve. But he admitted, it was difficult to concentrate on the work he was doing. Out of nowhere, he would remember his wife’s laughter. Or their shared excitement over the baby and painting the nursery. He would grab the whiskey in his liquor cabinet in his office to drown out her voice when it became overwhelming. 

Ginger Ale found him late one night. She sighed and went to wake him up after he had passed out at his desk. “Come on, big guy.” She woke him up and helped him get to his apartment connected to the Statesman headquarters. 

He grunted and tried to follow her commands as best as possible. “Why you bein’ so nice to me, Ging?” He slurred, “I’ve done nothin’ but put you down.”

She hummed in agreement, “It’s easier to swallow now that I didn’t need your vote to become a field agent.” 

“Shucks. Congrats. I’m sorry I held such a grudge against ya for so long. I don’t know why I thought girls—er, women—shouldn ta be in the field…I hear you’re doing good.”

“The transition is difficult with our agencies low on operatives. I still have to juggle the next candidate trials, train the next Ginger Ale, and get myself ready for the field.”

“Well. If there’s anyone who can do it, it’s yer.”

“Here we are big guy.” She opened his apartment by picking the lock and negating the Statesman security. 

“Thanks, lil lady. Which codename are ya takin’?”

“Agent Rum,” She said and closed the door after verifying he was sober enough to put himself to bed. 

\--

A couple months later, Champ called Jack into his office. “Jack, I need some help this morning.” 

“Yussir?”

“I sponsored an intelligence analyst to this season’s field agent trials. I have some unexpected meetings with investors. Can you intercept her and show her to the barracks?” 

Well. It was better than sitting at his desk. It stung he couldn’t sponsor someone this round due to his probation. “Of course, sir. Who’d ya sponsor?” 

“Agent Y/L/N. Analyst from California branch.” 

\--

After Agent Whiskey dropped you off at the barracks, he started the journey back to Headquarters. Who was she? Jack thought to himself. He never really considered the sources of information handed to him for missions, but always read the dossiers that were given to him. He remembered some of the missions with her name at the top of the reports now. They had always provided suggested uses for using his lasso and whips when usually he had to work that out on his own. He was impressed you took lessons with that weaponry and realized you were good. They only allowed agents to take those courses until after they become skilled at fire arms and sharp objects. He wondered who would now be giving him his mission information before forgetting he wouldn’t be going on missions for a while…if at all. He wished he wasn’t on probation as his glasses had been confiscated and had to remain in the dark about who you are.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You go through more training and trials. Jack has to ask the Kingsman for forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary: You go through more training. Jack has to ask the Kingsman for forgiveness for [spoiler alert for Kingsman 2] betraying them during The Golden Circle mission. 
> 
> A/N: The events during trials will be pretty similar to those in Kingsman with some differences. The first part will be the reader’s POV and the second part will focus on Jack (not necessarily his POV, but it focuses on what he does). But we get to go to Saville Row! And see Eggsy, Harry, Merlin, and Roxy! Because they are all alive and I accept nothing else. A little mention of Agent Tequila x Roxy. I also took a quote from Kingsman: The Golden Circle - The Official Novelization during the second part.
> 
> Pairings: Agent Whiskey x reader (eventually, probably within the next chapter or soon after). 
> 
> Warnings: Violence
> 
> Words: 3.5k

As clichéd as it sounds, you knew training would be hard, but you didn’t know it would be this hard. You were thankful you had some basics down, because it was getting hard to swallow the combat training, survival skills, basic medicine and injury care, espionage, firearms, and everything else you weren’t supposed to forget about. You would get short reprieves in bursts of precious minutes you had to yourself between tasks to put your headphones in and listen to music. But who knew the hardest challenge would be team work? 

You stared down at the pathetic creature in front of you. It was tiny, walked uncoordinated on four legs, was mostly white with a couple brown spots on its back and another over one eye, its torso a bit long compared to its legs, and kept whining. You sighed for what felt like the billionth time that day. 

“Sit.” It looked at you and panted. “Sit,” you repeated and gestured your arm down with no success. “Sit,” you tried to force the dog’s bottom onto the ground and instead it ran around you in circles. You watched, frustrated at its glee. You were fine on your own. You could cook for yourself, get yourself around, defend yourself and more. But now you had to take care of another being? You’d never wanted a pet before. Never wanted an attachment. You thought you’d only have to look after yourself in the field. Maybe another agent or two, but then it would’ve been only for the duration of a mission. 

“Can’t train a dog, eh, know-it-all?” A tall boy with pale skin, dirty blonde hair and green eyes yelled at you as he walked by, German Shepard walking calmly by him. _Jeff, that was his name._ You sighed and tried to get the dog’s attention again. You pinched the bridge of your nose and put one of your hands in your pocket to try to calm down.

“Hey, Y/N?” You heard a voice call out to you. 

You looked up, frustrated, “Hey Simon.” Simon and you were dressed in a gray shirt and combat pants which would be your uniform for the duration of training. He had a sandy complexion with black spikey hair and dark brown eyes. He had a toned musculature and was a couple inches taller than you.

“You doing all right there?” You paused, considering him, unsure if he was mocking you. “I didn’t know how to train a dog before, too.” 

“Uh huh,” You mumbled as you saw his golden retriever dutifully sitting by his side while your mutt was still getting distracted by grass, butterflies, wind…

“No, seriously. I was wondering if we could help each other out during training.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like an alliance or something. You kicked ass during the target practice and the obstacle course. Maybe I could help with puppy training?”

Another being in your life? You really weren’t planning on getting to know the other candidates. “Aren’t we supposed to be competing against one another?” 

“Yeah, but I could really use the help. And at least you’d have another sparring partner? And I’ve heard instructors say you only get better when you teach someone.” 

You sighed again. “All right.” The brown and white dog scampered over to you. You knew you were just taking your frustration out on your puppy and he didn’t really deserve it. 

“All right! First thing you gotta know about training dogs. You gotta know what they respond to. Usually it’s treats.” Simon pulled a small dog bone shaped biscuit out of his pocket. Your dog—the little traitor—immediate ran up to him, drooling. “I think yours will do well with treats as positive reinforcement” He smiled and petted the little dog after he responded to Simon’s command to sit. The little animal munched on the treat happily. “What’d you name your dog?”

“Arlo.” At that moment the dog chose to run to you on his little legs and you felt your heart soften a little bit. 

\--  
The next several weeks pushed you further than you thought possible. You and Simon trained with one another and you had to admit he was right. You had definitely helped him out with shooting, combat, retaining information and more. But in turn he also pushed you to your limits, enhancing your skills, and developing a kinship Arlo. 

There were 8 candidatesleft and Ginger Ale met you all in a warehouse and gave you each a small empty knapsack. “You all have one hour to pack anything you can into your bag.” 

“Do we get to know what we’re supposed to pack for?” Simon asked.

“No.” 

You did a quick run through the warehouse to see what was available and could fit into the bag, nodding at Simon when you passed him. You grabbed a sleeping bag, rations, ferro rods, water bottle with filter, head lamp and some medical supplies. You grimaced when you had to unpack some supplies and decide between an axe or a knife. While you were deciding, Jeff grabbed the axe you had in front of you. “What the hell?” You yelled at him. “You snooze, you lose, robot!” You grabbed the knife and at the last minute grabbed some rope. 

“Time’s up.” You all came back into formation. “Get in the helicopter.” You could tell you were all nervous and excited. This would be the first time off of the training premises, but given the items you had packed, it probably wouldn’t be for fun. 

The helicopter circled a large forest with the Statesman logo clearly in the middle. Ginger Ale said into her headset that was miced up to each of yours, “We’ll be dropping each of you off in a different location in the forest. Your goal is to get to the Statesman logo. And to survive. The last one, or maybe more, will be sent home. Good luck.” 

As soon as Ginger and the helicopter left you alone, you knew your first mistake. You forgot a compass. _Damn. How could I be so stupid?_ You thought to yourself.

You sat there, looking and listening to your surroundings. After gathering your bearings, you laid out all the items you grabbed from the warehouse and searched to see if anything else was in the bag Ginger provided. A sewing kit, matches, one water purification tablet, and it looked like a GPS tracker was sewed into one of the pockets. As you were packing the items and trying to figure out a plan, when suddenly a memory you thought long forgotten blossomed. 

_“See this, Y/N?” Your dad gently said to you and your siblings in the hush of the Yosemite._

_“Yeah dad?” Your brother said excitedly._

_“Always stay with me when we’re hiking. But if you ever get lost, this is how you find your way…” And your dad proceeded to provide survival tips including tracking the direction the sun rises and sets, stars in the night sky which he repeated later that night, where moss grows, and how to watch the shadows._

You blinked away tears you hadn’t realized had formed. You hadn’t let yourself think about them for so long. You had forgotten in the depth of the loss that there were fond memories as well. Not just fond ones, but ones that would get you to survive. You remembered what he said about making your own compass and thought again about your surroundings from where the helicopter showed you the Statesman logo to where you were dropped off. You started walking in the general direction of the stream you thought would be between your current location and the destination.

When you found the stream, you made sure that you hydrated well using the water bottle with filtration, and refilled it so it would be full for the next part of your journey. You also ate a small part of your rations and pulled out the needle from the sewing kit. Luckily there were leaves large enough to hold water and you wouldn’t have to use the bottle cap. _Crap._ You need to magnetize the needle in order for it to work. You started walking in a small circle to think of a different solution, when you put your hands in your pockets, your usual nervous habit. After a beat you realized you were fiddling around with your headphones which you had stuffed in your pocket before you met Ginger Ale. You felt a weak force as each earbud tried to rub against one another. Magnets in the headphones. 

After making your own compass you headed on your way again. You had to backtrack a few times, which was fine. _Just keep breathing._ You’d repeat to yourself as your dad taught you when you were younger to stay calm. _It’ll be okay._ As the sun set you decided to make camp before you ran out of daylight. If everyone was dropped off equidistant from the final destination, you thought you were making good time and didn’t want to push yourself to the limit too early on. 

The night was calm, and you were able to find some rest just using the sleeping bag as lodging. You had put together kindling for a fire but didn’t need to start one and kept your headlamp on your head just in case you needed to move in the darkness. 

The next day was similar, though you started to feel the fatigue as the day was reaching the end. You’d gotten scratched up by the forest and wanted to chug all your water. _Be smart, be smart._ You tried telling yourself as a way to fight your longing. That night was colder. You tried to keep warm by starting a fire using the ferro sticks in addition to wrapping the sleeping bag as close as you could to yourself, but it was a futile effort when it started to rain. Although not restful, and with your back muscles feeling the strain, at least your legs had gotten some rest. Some. What gave you hope was that given the visual you had before you landed, you should be reaching the logo by the end of the day. You hoped you weren’t last. 

Something moved in your peripheral and you quickly grabbed your knife and went into a combat stance, listening and looking for the threat. You saw two cubs relatively close, curious at what you were doing in their home. _Shit._ You thought when you saw the cubs’ mother coming up behind them. While your father taught you how to navigate, it was your mother who was always worried and afraid there were bears and other creatures everywhere whose sole desire was to hurt you and your family. You had to consciously not drop your knife as her voice filled your head. 

_“Stay calm. Make yourself look as large as possible. Move away slowly and sideways.”_ You heard her words and started moving away. Luckily the baby bears had found something interesting in another direction and they too started moving away. But you weren’t going to turn your back to them yet.

You were moving away from the bears and they were moving away from you when suddenly you felt something grab your ankle and you were lifted into the air, dangling. 

You heard laughter. You wouldn’t mistake that condescending laugh for anyone other than Jeff. 

“You idiot, Y/N!” He continued laughing, “I can’t believe I actually trapped you. I thought you were smart!” 

I thought I was too, you thought as he circled around you. Your knife was now on the ground out of your reach and you tried to reach the rope around your ankle to untie yourself. 

“You, Loser” Jeff said and round house kicked you in the back making you drop your head back down with an oof. “You really thought you would be a secret agent?” He punched you in the stomach. “How would you get an informant to talk? Say ‘pretty please?’” He continued to beat you, landing hits around your torso and to your head. You ground your teeth, trying not to make a sound or showing any pain. You would not give him the satisfaction that he was getting to you. “I think I’ll take this.” He said mockingly as he took your pack and looked at its contents. “Good haul.” He picked up the knife, “I got the axe and the knife. Thank you, Y/N!” He called as he walked away from you. 

When you were sure he was out of range, you tried to struggle to disentangle yourself. But you were so very tired and hurt. You don’t know when your muscles and brain tapped out, but the next thing you knew a familiar voice was waking you up. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Simon said as you started coming to. “I’m going to cut you down, but I don’t think I can catch you at the same time. Brace for a fall.” You nodded dully, _what was another bruise to add to the collection._ “I know you’re in pain, but we gotta go. Now!” You nodded again and slowly came up, Simon trying to help support you. 

“It’s a good thing your legs aren’t broken,” Simon said as you realized your shoulder didn’t feel right. “What happened?” 

You grunted, “Let’s finish this, then I’ll tell you. I don’t think I have the energy to talk and move right now. Thanks for saving me.” He nodded as he led you to the logo. 

Jeff and a few of his goons were there already, but not everyone. You were still in the running. 

You stayed at the opposite side of the circle from Jeff when Simon gently helped you down. “Will you tell me what happened now?”

You grunted again, “Bears. Didn’t see my next step. Trap. Jeff,” you sneered, or tried to. “Thanks again for saving me. How did you find me?” You tried to turn to him but winced in pain. 

“When I got to the logo, I saw you weren’t there. You’ve been kicking my ass throughout this and I knew something was wrong when I saw Jeff with 2 packs and a smug-ass smile.” 

A black helicopter with the Statesman logo soon landed. Ginger Ale stepped out and took a look at the remaining 6, pausing at you and then glancing at Jeff. Her face remained impassive when she said, “Good job for getting through this challenge. Two of the other participants had used up all their supplies the first night and have been discharged. Get in the chopper and we’ll head back now.” 

When you got back to the training facility, Ginger Ale stopped you right after you disembarked the helicopter. “Y/N. You really thought you’d go on without receiving medical attention?” 

You tried to look at her but your neck wasn’t cooperating with you. “’tis but a scratch.” 

Ginger clicked her tongue, but did not laugh at the reference. “Uh huh. You have a dislocated shoulder and I’m not convinced you don’t have internal bleeding along with all your bruises. You going to tell me what happened?” 

You weighed your options. This was between you and Jeff, “I fell several times walking through the forest.” 

She eyed you skeptically. “Well let’s get you to the medical center. Not only do field agents have to rely on one another, but the rest of the Statesman are here to support them. You should know better to ask for help when really needed.” Ginger chastising you made you feel worse. So did getting your shoulder fixed. The doctor confirmed you didn’t have internal bleeding and muttered something about at least the wounds weren’t serious enough to warrant alpha gel and instead rubbed something called Zeta ointment on your wounds and ordered you to lay in the med bay for at least one hour. The doctor told you your rest would be uninterrupted so that the gel could do its magic. You let your tears fall then. 

_Was this pain really worth it?_ You thought. _Dealing with Jeff and other jerks? All the memories you thought forgotten and people and pets starting to fill the space that was once hollow?_ It scared you and the thoughts kept circling in your head until exhaustion took over and you fell asleep.

\--  
[Jack Daniel] 

After going to therapy weekly and showing improvements, namely less blacking out and less sleeping with strangers, Jack was cleared to go to London to check in with Tequila and apologize for his actions almost two years prior. Luckily it was only Tequila who was his welcome crew at the hanger. 

“Well, look atchu” Jack said as he came in to embrace Tequila, who had traded in his cowboy suit for a double-breasted suit with peak lapel, button cuffs, all fitted well and made with premium fabric. Bowler hat to top it all off. 

“And you haven’t changed one bit,” Tequila replied and saw Jack wince, “Appearance-wise, Westerner.” Jack let it go with a tip of his hat. Tequila remained his friend throughout the past 2 years and knew how hard Jack was working to improve his life and not obsess or completely avoid the past. All the agents saw a therapist at some frequency since they continually saw messed up shit, but Jack was doing something else. 

They walked through the hanger and used the rebuilt Kingsman tube system to get to the main meeting space, dressed as a dining room in the Savile Row shop. As they took the elevator into the main shop area, Jack whistled, “Well, I’ll be damned. They really did get this place up and running after the missiles. It looked worse than a tornado hittin’ a trailer park.” 

“Yeah, the Brits’re pretty thankful for the Statesman help. I think I’ll get to go home soon.” Tequila said without much excitement.

“How come you don’t sound happy to come to good ole home sweet home?” 

“Uhh—” Tequila blushed

“Who’d you meet?”

Tequila rubbed the back of his neck and wished he could’ve had a swig of whiskey right about now. “There’s this agent, she’s really great.” 

“Lancelot?” Jack turned to Tequila, surprised that the woman who got him tongue tied was the only female field agent active in Kingsman. “When’d you stop going after the usual dolls?” 

“To be honest, I’m not sure. We’d just been working together a lot and going on a lot of missions together. I love bein’ around her.” Tequila glanced back at Jack then back to the elevator doors. He had never admitted it in the two years he’s been in London. 

“Well. I’m happy for you, brother. I hope it works out for you.” Tequila was surprised to hear that. He expected Jack to tell him to keep being a bachelor. Eggsy had told Tequila about the time Jack told him to “bang the hottest girls and blow straight outta town. Brand-new day, brand-new pussy. Wash, rinse, and repeat,” during the Poppy mission.

They soon made it to the dining room after exiting the elevator doors hidden in one of the fitting rooms. Tensions rose as they entered the Kingsman conference room. Seated at the head of the table was Harry Hart, the new Arthur. Eggsy and Roxy were seated to his left. Merlin was standing a few feet behind them holding a tablet. They were all dressed per Kingsman code, suits and smart glasses with Merlin wearing his signature wool military sweater. They stood up as the Americans entered the room, both groups staring one another down as if two predators were waiting to see who would attack first. 

Jack took the opening to say, “Thank you for letting me into your quarters. I wanted to apologize to you. Gallahad. Arthur. Merlin. Lancelot.” He nodded to each agent as he spoke their name. Jack had no glasses and no weapons, still off duty as part of his punishment. “Arthur, you were right to stop me. I would’ve let all those people die because of my own pain I couldn’t deal with.” He paused until Arthur acknowledged it with a nod. He turned to Eggsy, “And Galahad, I want to apologize for what I said about your wife too. She did do you a solid, but she’s done more than that and clearly supports you and the agency. I’m sorry I doubted you and your judgement. I let my past cloud my own. And now I know Harry definitely wouldn’t say that disrespecting garbage about women I said back then.” Roxy raised an eyebrow and Eggsy nodded, still skeptical. 

“Thank you for your apologies, Jack.” Jack winced at Harry’s reply, knowing they weren’t using his codename Whiskey until he was accepted back as a field agent. If he was accepted. Harry looked at each of his agents and after their unspoken decision, continued, “We accept your apology and hope it won’t happen again. We’ve…all been through a lot, but can’t forget our goal is to keep the civilians safe and prevent national, or global, disasters.” 

“Thank you,” Jack replied, trying not to show the emotions swelling at their acceptance, “I really appreciate it.” 

“All right,” Harry said. “Well we’re here to socialize and for you to get back into good graces. So let’s say the first round is on you.” Jack grinned as they all made movements to get to the Black Prince Pub.

It took a while for tensions to truly drop, and there was still some there. But it ended up being a good night, surprisingly ending without a big fight and someone saying “Manners maketh man.” Jack got to know the agents better and tried to be nonchalant when he noticed Tequila and Roxy together. 

He spent a couple more weeks there, helping Tequila and the Kingsman. As they trusted him with more responsibilities, he found himself starting to feel fulfilled again. He was even allowed to be backup for Tequila and Roxy on a couple discreet missions. Drinking whiskey and catching up with Tequila also helped him feel better, even if they had to drink scotch instead.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaching the end of the trials for both the reader and Whiskey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Kingsman physics and science apply in this chapter and throughout story. I also finished the novelization of the Golden Circle and reference some stuff from the book. I'm also considering making this a series and writing about what Tequila does in Kingsman and how Roxy and Merlin survive. I have a headcannon where Tequila's civilian personality is more like Channing Tatum's goofy 21 jump street character and Roxy has to deal with his shenanigans. And maybe expanding on Merlin x Ginger Ale in a separate fic. Let me know if you're interested. 
> 
> Warnings: some violence
> 
> Words: 3.8 K

Apparently, the Kingsman had given Champ good feedback on Jack as he was trusted with more to do Stateside as well. Ginger Ale—who he had finally voted in as a member—was busy working two jobs as a field agent and turning over her duties to the next Ginger. She had asked Jack to proctor the next combat session and provide feedback. Jack didn’t love training the candidates, but it was the least he could do for how shitty he had treated Ginger Ale for so long. 

“Well, boys and girls,” Jack said loudly as the candidates fell into formation in the training room after they finished warming up. “Ginger tells me you know the drill. One on one. I’ll tell you which weapon ya get to use, if any. First one to yield or get kicked out of the circle loses. You’re fighting to disarm and restrain, not to kill.”

Jack was bored after a few bouts. The class was good, but he didn’t like monitoring these types of sessions. He liked seeing how and if they thought out of the box when there were no rules. He said you and Jeff were next and that you would be fighting hand to hand. He barely realized you were up against the biggest asshole in the class, just that Jeff was getting sloppier throughout the match. He was jotting notes down on a tablet and thinking about what the next pair could use. He barely registered the male getting up after you push kicked him out of bounds and unintentionally towards the knife cart. 

Jeff yelled in fury “You fucking bitch!” grabbing two of the knives and sending it at you as you were walking away. Although he poorly aimed in his anger and one of the knives was instead headed for another candidate. Your back was faced to the knives and Jack wasn’t sure he was fast enough during his time out of the field to get to you since his whips were currently on the table you were closest at. Jack watched in shock as you smoothly pulled his whips and lasso, one to knock one of the knives out of the air and to the floor away from the other candidates. The lasso grabbed the knife and you had changed its direction to the owner. “No!” Whiskey shouted, as he thought _Ginger will kill me if one of here trainees was killed during my watch, even if it was the asshole._ But as soon as it looked like the knife would meet the original thrower’s abdomen, the lasso boomeranged and brought the knife back into your hand. The boy had fallen to the ground in fear and the class had frozen in shock as well. You looked fed up. You placed the whip, lasso and knife on the table and kept walking to the heavy bags at the other end of the training studio.

Jack felt dumbfounded internally but knew he couldn’t show it to the candidates. You heard him chastise Jeff for continuing the fight when the exercise was over once someone was out of bounds and you ignored it to focus your energy on the bag. _You should’ve at least maimed Jeff. He deserved it,_ you thought as you tried to hold your tears in by hitting the bag. You were exhausted and it had taken a lot of control to change the direction of the knives, but you couldn’t show weakness. You hit the bag harder in lieu of processing what happened.

\--

As the months went by, one of the candidates failed a sniper challenge, and another failed the medicine and injury care challenge, almost poisoning himself. With four of you left including Simon, there was a surprising next task. Chat with a few active Statesman agents, including Ginger Ale, to ensure this was a life you wanted to choose. There would be no going back if you chose the life of a Statesman. You figured this was one of the interrogation centers as each room had a table with one chair on either side, and a two-way mirror.

Your first chat was with Whiskey. 

“Hey Darlin’” You looked at him as blankly as you could. “I mean, uh, Y/N.” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, at attention.

“Good job back in sparring a few weeks ago. I haven’t seen anyone do that before in trials.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You can be at ease, Y/N.” You relaxed slightly. “How did you know the knives were coming at you?”

“I never keep my guard down, especially around that guy, Jeff. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t feel on edge, and I guess the training’s pretty good since I saw it in my peripheral. I took a knife throwing class with other untrained jerks and I don’t think I’ll forget the sound coming at me before the knives hit their mark” You motioned to your stomach and arm. 

“You’ve been stabbed before?” 

You shrugged. “Controlled-ish environment. Took a cheap class back in college. Teacher was newer too, but I guess that’s not supposed to happen. Luckily we were near the health center.” 

He stared with an inscrutable look. “How come you haven’t tried to become a field agent before?”

You paused, unsure. “I…don’t know, sir. Guess I didn’t think I could do it. Was scared of rejection. Still kind of am.”

He paused then. “Well, I hope you make it.” 

“Thank you.” The air around you suddenly felt tense and your gut clenched. There was an awkward pause before you asked what he liked and didn’t like about being an agent. You saw him flinch at the word “agent,” and didn’t understand why. 

“Traveling, women.” The words fell easily from his mouth as if that was his standard response but his eyes betrayed the truth behind the answer. He didn’t have to expand beyond that but you thought you saw him relax when the bell sounded to move to the next person. “See you around, Y/N. Hopefully,” Jack replied. 

You entered the next room to find Ginger Ale and greeted her quickly. 

“Ginger, I hope this doesn’t make me sound weak, but I have to ask. How do you do it? And Why?” She cocked her head in response, “Being a field agent, hell being a women in this part of the field?” 

She eyed you, weighing your question and after a pause, leaned on the table between you two and said, “This can’t be a big surprise to you, Y/N. You’ve been in a support role and know what the field agents have done to save the world.”

“It’s different reading a straight forward report opposed to living it…” You said, putting your hands in your pockets so that you didn’t fiddle with them.

“I was, much shyer, not even that long ago.” Ginger Ale said. “I let the boys walk over me, even though somewhere inside me I knew I was smarter than all of them combined. I mean, I got to be strategy executive somehow, right?” She kept looking in your eyes and although there was a buzz from the old headlights, the room felt eerily quiet. “It’s been very difficult trying to break through from support staff to field agent. I don’t regret anything of what I’ve done, I developed several life changing and saving technologies and worked myself to the bone to get as good as and sometimes better than the cowboys. But I wish I hadn’t let myself believe their put downs for so long, at least the ones rooting against me as a field agent.” Her gaze hardened at you, “It will be very difficult, Y/N. I don’t want you to doubt that. But it’s also very different, from being the one behind the monitors to being the one making the snap decisions out there. I think, if you are yearning to do more to save the world than sit behind a desk, and are willing to continue to make sacrifices, I think it’ll be a good fit.” A small ding sounded signaling it was time to move on. “And Y/N, it’s not a weakness to ask questions. You’re not alone.” You nodded, trying to absorb everything she said.

As you closed the door and went to the remaining agents, you realized you had Ginger Ale to thank for Champ looking into sponsoring a member of support staff to the field agent trials.

Your next chats with the remaining 2 agents were pleasant enough. You asked why they became agents, what their favorite and least favorite part of being Statesmen were and found the commonality. They each had a life changing even that made them desire justice for those who can’t defend themselves. And the paper work was awful. 

You were glad you had some time afterwards to digest what had been said and to walk Arlo in the sun. No one bothered you and you had a feeling each trainee was coming to terms with what it actually would be like to risk your lives daily without a safety net. 

You were all called later that day for your first mission. You were each handed a photograph and were told that was your mark for the night. You each held up your photos to each other showing you and Jeff had the same mark while Simon and the remaining trainee shared a different mark. Your mark was a woman who had mocha colored skin with glamorous dark curls that went to her waist. Simon’s mark was a man with olive skin, stubble over his face, and prominent cheek bones. You would be infiltrating the cocktail lounge where they were known to frequent and meet their clients. Your job was to get information about what they were selling and it would be more impressive if you got more information including the identity of the clients, pickup times and locations, and other business strategies.

“Ha!” This’ll be easy. I’m the best looking one out of all of us. Jeff said after the information was given. 

You each had a few hours to get ready for the mission. You read the dossier on the woman, trying to ignore the sloppy work and instead focus on the facts as you painted your nails. You were thankful you had kept your nail polish that changed colors when dipped in a drink that was spiked. You also put on some make up, fixed your hair, and donned a dress and walkable heels. 

You all entered the lounge at different times. It was dark, a live jazz band was playing in the corner, and it was outfitted with upscale couches and tables adorned with candles to provide some low light. Champagne was flowing, but you declined, wanting to do reconnaissance by getting a drink at the bar. 

You saw Simon easily chatting and flirting with his mark as the other trainee sulked in a corner drinking champagne. Jeff was chatting to your mark and you could see her disinterest at him. Nearby you saw a man who looked frustrated to have been interrupted by Jeff and his attempted flirting. 

You walked toward them, deciding to give attention to the man instead. He was older, dressed in a double breasted suit, and was nursing whiskey. “Do you mind if I sit here?” You asked him, shyly. He looked you up and down like you were a piece of meat and you smiled in appreciation while internally you wanted to puke. 

“Sure, gorgeous.” You sat down, saying your name was Mary and flirting with him some more. 

Your mark finally got Charlie to leave by asking one of her men to remove him after ignoring her directions for him to leave. 

“Tommy,” she said to the man you were speaking with, “Who do you have there?” 

“This lovely gal is Mary.” 

“Pleased to meet you, Miss,” You caressed her hand as you greeted her. 

“Mary, please have champagne, I’m sponsoring this night so don’t worry about the costs.” You blushed in response.

“Thank you,” As you received it you let a little spill on your hand and saw your nail polish change. “Oh, I’m such a klutz.” You giggled and put the drink down. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jeff slump onto the couch. You looked in another direction and saw Simon’s mark holding him up and carrying him to the exit. “It’s lovely to meet you, Miss, Tommy,” you got up, “but I really must be getting going.” Tommy grabbed your wrist roughly as another of the mark’s men came behind you. 

“You’ll go where we want you to go.” The woman smiled sinisterly. "You were smart to refuse the champagne.” She reached into her purse, “But not smart enough, Statesman” she jeered and you felt something getting injected into your neck. You tried to protest but fell unconscious. 

When you woke, you felt rope tied around your wrists and ankles. You kept your eyes closed and tried to determine where you were. You smelled the dew of an early morning and felt the grass beneath you. And then you heard neighing and stomping on the ground. Horses? And close by from the sound of it. Shit. You had no more time for thought as water was being dumped on you. 

You sputtered and open your eyes in almost pretend shock “What the fuck?” You yelled and saw Tommy standing over you, one of the woman’s goons holding the bucket that was used to dump ice cold water on you. 

“Tell, me Mary,” he spat, “Or should I say, Y/N? Who are the Statesman?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” 

He laughed, “Yes, you do. Tell me.” He snapped his fingers and you heard two slaps before you felt the restraints start pulling at you as the horses start moving in opposite directions. You cried in pain as you felt your limbs being stretched. And he laughed again, “Your family looked just as terrified before they died too. Tell me who The Statesman are and I’ll make it stop.”

“Fuck you!” You yelled back at him in anger. “Don’t talk about them!” He laughed, and the horses pulled harder. “I don’t know who the fucking Statesman are or what that is! Screw you!” You could feel your joints popping and screamed. You were going to black out from the pain and the last thing you thought was this is such a shitty way to die. 

\--

The first thing you heard next was a heart monitor. Sounded like a steady heart beat. You thought it might be yours as you felt wires connected to you. “How’s she doing?” you thought you heard Champ ask. 

“She should be waking up soon. She was the last to do interrogation so she’ll be the last to wake up.” 

You opened your eyes then, and took stock of your predicament. “Ginger? Champ? What happened?” 

“You passed the interrogation. And the seduction trial.” 

“I did? How am I alive?” 

“We stopped the trial short after you blacked out. You lasted the longest so you’ll have longer to heal. We reset everything and used proprietary treatments so you should be up and at ‘em in a few more hours.”

“How long ago was that? And how’s Arlo?”

“Yesterday. And as usual, the dogs are at the Statesman kennel. Now get some rest. It’s only you and Simon left.”

You felt something strange. Relief? You realized you were happy Simon and Arlo were both okay. 

\--

A day later you were asked to bring Arlo to the main meeting room in the bottle shaped building. “Shoot the dog.” You looked at Champ in horror. He stared calmly and said, “You heard me, shoot the dog.” 

You took the gun from him and turned it in your hand. It felt…different. You couldn’t quite place it. Was it because you were about to kill the only thing you’ve ever taken care of? Probably. Fuck. This was going to hurt. You aimed at the poor dog, panting and tilting its head at you. You pulled the trigger and the recoil was slightly off but saw the bullet hit its mark. You saw blood trickle from the wound and a pained whimper as Arlo collapsed. 

“Congratulations, Y/N.” Champ said with a smile. “Welcome to Statesman.” 

You didn’t move your eyes away from Arlo and mumbled a thank you before kneeling and rubbing your hands through Arlo’s blood soaked fur. “Wait. What the fuck? He’s still breathing? And this blood? It doesn’t feel right.” 

Champ chuckled, “Of course it’s not real! You think we’re psychopaths? We wouldn’t hurt an innocent.” 

“What the fuck kind of test is this?” You snapped back. 

Champs mood became serious at once, “That you’ll take orders from us even if it doesn’t make sense. Sometimes, in the field, we’ll have more information than you and you’ll have to do what Ginger or another handler says to do.” He paused, letting it sink in. 

You heard a knock at the door. Ginger and Simon came in, the latter carrying his dog with fake blood on it. She looked at the scene and smiled at Champ and said, “Simon passed as well.” 

“Congratulations, both of you. For becoming Statesman. Y/N, you’re new codename is Agent Vodka. Simon, you’ll be Agent Gin.” You both nodded and walked out of the room with your dogs. 

\--

“Man what the fuck was that?” you said to Simon as you both cleaned your dogs in the kennel area. You had given them plenty of treats and cuddles.

“I have no clue.” Simon said. “That was really fucked up.”

“Yeah.” You both paused, lost in your thoughts for a bit. “I guess we’ve been through a lot of fucked up things for this. And we’ll probably see some crazier shit.” 

You both looked at each other. “Shit, we’re agents!” You yelled at the same time. 

You groaned, “I hope there’s some tailors there, because I’m not gonna wear a damn cowboy outfit like the rest of ‘em” 

“Yeehaw,” Simon said in reply.

\--

[Jack Daniel]

Jack watched the two new agents leave the main room, holding their dogs with fake blood on it, their faces, shocked. He shook his head, but understood what it felt like and how difficult it was to process now that the adrenaline of trials were waning. He heard Champ say, “You can come in now, Jack.” 

He walked in and took a seat to Champ’s right, Ginger across from him. “I know it’s been a tough few years since Poppy and her ridiculous plan. You’ve done a lot of work since then. What do you think of all it?” 

Jack paused, not expecting this question. He thought he’d be getting more paperwork to do. “I didn’t realize how much I was holding in. Letting my sorrow for Lela and our unborn child fester into anger and hate. And I didn’t understand that I was using all those women. My momma would be so disappointed. I didn’t care for ‘em. I just didn’t want ta feel sorrow…or anything, really. I thought I was doing the right thing, keepin’ Ginger safe by not letting her become a field agent, keepin’ the agencies a secret by telling Eggsy to stay broken up with his girlfriend, and making the world a better place…by letting all those people die.” He paused thinking again, “It’s been difficult, trying to let myself feel…feelings and not letting them consume me…and I know I don’t have the right to ask for this, but I still want to protect the innocent, like Lela and our unborn son. Even, if the innocent sometimes make decisions I don’t like.” 

Champ and Ginger looked at him, as if trying to determine the veracity of his statement, then looked at each other. Champ said, “I’m proud of you, Jack. Agent Whiskey.” And handed him his glasses back. 

Jack took his glasses back with a thanks and headed back to his Kentucky quarters. He poured himself some of his agency’s whiskey and sat down on the patio. _Am I ready to go back in field?_ He thought to himself. He pulled out the Polaroid of Lela that Ginger used to reinstitute his memories. _I was ready to let all those people die to avenge you, honey…son. I used to think so black and white. Drug users were bad. Doesn’t matter why. Doesn’t matter if they were self-medicating or dealing with a tragedy. He looked at the photo again, I know I was never as kind hearted as you, darlin.’ And you’re probably up there disappointed that I let my moral compass get all twisted up._ He took a sip of his whiskey again and thought he pictured her voice, 

_“Honey, I just want you to be happy. I miss you so damn much, and I wish you could’ve met your son. But this darkness is eating you from the inside out. I never would’ve wanted millions of people to die just because I did. I want people to live and enjoy life. I want you to enjoy life, Jack. There’s bad people out there, but you’re not one of them.”_

Jack sat there for a long time that night. He didn’t really know how to enjoy life. But he liked the adrenaline of a mission, the knowledge that an innocent person was alive due to his actions, and bad guys ended up dead or in jail. When he woke up the next day, he put his Stetson and glasses on with more confidence than the day before. 

\--

The next time you entered the main board room, you and Simon were fully fledged agents. And luckily, since there were now two women field agents, there was a couple more options for spyware. You wore dark jeans, a dark pressed button up shirt, and glasses perched on your nose. Instead of having alpha gel and other gadgets in a cowboy hat, you wore a vest which housed all the tools you’d need on a mission. The techs were excited that you requested they work on a bandolier and purse you could carry even more knickknacks in.

Champ started the meeting. You, Ginger Ale, Simon, Jack, and one of the techs were also in attendance. You could see there were a few more agents attending virtually. “We got two new field agents, Gin and Vodka, Agent Rum has officially given her old duties to the new Ginger Ale,” the tech nodded, “and Agent Whiskey is back on active duty.” You were confused about the last part, but were soon handed some of the aged Statesman bourbon. “Let’s toast to this momentous occasion.” You each raised your glasses and took a swig.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life now that the reader is an agent and Whiskey is back in the field. Less back and forth between character's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Finally Whiskey x reader interactions. Thanks for your patience getting here, y'all :) I’m basing Jack’s personality on Ginger’s assessment of him in the book, “Ginger nodded, but Jack was a man of strong feelings, to put it mildly…She wasn’t sure Jack could not make it personal.” The book also uses the song I reference in how Jack felt about his past.
> 
> I also don’t know anything about hacking haha.
> 
> Warnings: More descriptive violence, Kingsman nonsensical physics and hacking.
> 
> Words: 3.6k

You may have passed the trials, but still had to learn a lot. At least that’s what Whiskey said on your first field mission and he asked you to be his lookout when he infiltrated a diplomat’s estate to find incriminating evidence. By the 5th time you were only lookout, you were done. 

“Jack, I need some experience not being the lookout,” You told him as you both flew back to New York on the Statesman jet. You both were standing at the bar on the plane and he eyed you over the whiskey he was sipping. “I’m capable, smart, and was chosen for this to actually do something other than wait around for you. Gin’s already been on his own and we’re recruited from the same class.” You challenged his gaze, determined to win this bout. He proceeded to quiz you on several different scenarios and you responded what you’d do in each one. Then he suddenly leapt at you and put you in a chokehold with one arm. You quickly countered by raising your arm and bringing your elbow down to dislodge his grip and grabbing his wrist to turn his arm the other way. He used his other arm to punch you, but you absorbed the hit, using his momentum to flip him to the ground, keeping the first arm pinned beneath him, and drawing your gun out, aimed at his head at the same time. You stared each other down tensely before he used his free hand to tap your side in defeat. 

“All right. You’ll take lead on the next one. Depending on what it is.” 

“Great.” You huffed and got off him and went to the rest room in the back of the plane to calm down. When you got back to the main cabin, you saw Whiskey staring out the window in deep thought and deliberately chose the chair furthest away from him before putting your headphones in to listen to music to pass the time.

You had finished unloading the plane and restocking the ammunition and weapons used in the last mission and were on your way out of the New York hanger to take a hidden route that would lead you to the Statesman building. You entered your office, felt something was off, but it was just Whiskey there, sitting in the guest chair.

“Agent Whiskey,” you said in acknowledgement before sitting on your usual side of the desk. You were still mad that he tested you on the plane, and instead of looking at him, looked at the skyline your office had a view of. It wasn’t California, but it was growing on you. 

“I wanted to say, I’m sorry.” Whiskey replied, “It’s difficult letting me put a woman in harm’s way,” You looked at him and were about to reply to that, but he continued “I know, it’s a chauvinistic dick thing to say…to be. I’m trying to be better, but I’m not perfect. Thanks for callin’ me on my shit.” His eyes were uncertain and he fiddled with his Stetson in his lap. 

Instead of accepting his apology, you asked “Is this why you voted against Ginger for so long?” 

His eyes widened a bit at the question, before looking down and back at you, “Ah, she told you about that? Or warned you about me?”

You shook your head, “No, she never specified who was rooting against her, but it wasn’t hard to figure out it was you.” 

He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I did that.” He paused, “And I’ll try not to do that to you. Keep calling me on my shit if I do it again. Old habits die hard.” 

You nodded back and moved to pour a couple glasses of whiskey and handed him one. You raised your glass to him and when he tapped his to yours, you said, “Apology accepted. And I will definitely call you out if you do that or some other shitty thing again.” 

\-- 

Your next several missions were successful, but Whiskey had to get you out of some tight situations. You were surprised he wasn’t an ass about it either. He treated you like a partner, not a trainee, at least most of the time, which was also unexpected. You got to know him better during the Statesman plane rides to and from the locations, enjoying drinks from the bar and played pool with him. What kind of plane has a bar and a pool table? At some point over the year, you found yourself hanging out with him outside of missions too. You both ended up at the New York office, a large structure in Manhattan. And would find each other at the dive bars in the city, getting takeout at hole in the wall locations. It was still a busy time, so you would catch a few hours of sleep and head back into the office early.

You entered his office one Friday after knocking and said, “So, it’s the first weekend off we’ve had off in a long time, what are you gonna do tonight?”

He looked up from a report he was reading, used his thumb and index finger to smooth his mustache, and said, “To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s been so busy I haven’t even thought that far,” He laughed. 

“All right, cowboy,” you said, “well I’m gonna head out now. Arlo wants some extra attention since I’ve been gone and I got a book and a bath waiting for me. My back is still sore from that mobster who threw me into the bodega.” 

He chuckled at that, “Yeah, and that cat scratched you up pretty good.” 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. I’m so glad Statesman gives you dogs instead of cats. I probably would’ve quit as a candidate if that were the case.” 

“I’m glad you didn’t quit.” He replied, seriously.

You felt your cheeks warm, “Me too.” You turned to go, “See you later, buckaroo.” You teased him.

“You too, li’l lady.”

You settled in your bath later that evening, relaxing with candles around and reading a romance novel, and sighed in delight. But every time the protagonist of the book made googly eyes at the handsome male lead, you kept picturing Whiskey in his place. You imagined his arms around you and looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, a look you thought you saw every once in a while after a successful mission, or when he thought you weren’t looking when you paid for another round at a bar. You groaned, _this was not good._ You had to go meet someone to get Whiskey off your mind. He’s a coworker, another agent for Christ’s sake. You pulled up a dating app on your phone and started looking at potential matches. After chatting with a few guys and girls, you had yourself a date for the next night. 

The date was all right, the guy was fun enough. You took him to one of your favorite bars after dinner, and were having a good conversation with him in a booth when you saw Whiskey enter the bar. You don’t know how you forgot this was one of his favorite bars too. He saw you, smiled, noticed your date, then tipped his hat to you and changed trajectory from you to the bar. When you left later that night with your date, you thought you felt Whiskey’s gaze on you, as intent as if you were fighting 8 bodyguards on a mission. 

\--

The day after Champ called you and said you were doing a solo mission in San Francisco to infiltrate a drug cartel. They were synthesizing dangerous new stuff and you had to put a stop to it. You had set up a tracker on a few of the leads, using a new nanite device that doesn’t require violating another human being to use. _Pigs,_ you thought how your other agents had to finger their targets in order to get a lead. _Mucous membrane, my ass._ There was one agent you wouldn’t mind getting close with though. You shook your head as you kept waiting for someone to speak up or go somewhere useful. You started feeling something weird, familiar…loneliness. Except it wasn’t as welcome as before your life changed. You wondered what Arlo was up to. If he finally chewed through the newest toy you got him. You probably should send a note to your previous supervisor. You thought about Agent Gin and Agent Rum and their mission to infiltrate some a couple different corrupt politician’s administrations to try to prevent a war between two countries. You tried to think of why this was happening now, you’ve been on several missions before. And then you realized you always had Whiskey to talk to during the waiting. Before you could think more about that, you identified the lab for the drugs and got to work to dismantle their work. 

After a couple weeks, when you got back to New York, Whiskey was out on a mission. You found you missed him, if you were being honest with yourself. You wanted to ask him what he would’ve done in the same situation, what he thought of San Francisco in comparison to New York, and really just chat with him. You finally saw him later that week and found yourself asking him to get a drink later that night. You hoped you didn’t sound too desperate…you were just excited to be with him.  
You two were enjoying beer and bar food, chatting about your respective missions. He was just gathering some intel from a group that was starting to recruit questionable people. Ginger Ale was having trouble getting information on them, so he had to get to the physical servers and insert a dongle for the new Ginger Ale to monitor them. You laughed when he complained he felt like a limey stiff since he had to wear one of the Kingsman suits to get into the building. You noticed how warm his chocolate colored eyes were when he wasn’t focused on a mission, not that you didn’t know he knew exactly where each person was in the room and what could be used as weapons if needed. You also noticed his dimpled smile when you told him you almost got made and had to blend in a café and order overpriced avocado toast and a honey lavender latte. Wasn’t bad, but you preferred black coffee. 

After a beat, he asked “How’s that guy you were seeing?”

You looked at the table, embarrassed, “Eh, you know how it is.” You said, pushing the food on your plate around with a fork, “He couldn’t handle the secrecy and short amount of time I had to offer. Broke up with me.” You forgot about that guy pretty quickly.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” you looked back up at him and caught his eye. “Actually, I haven’t been with someone for more than a few dates for a while, remember? You called me a ladies man.” You both chuckled.

That helped pour cold water on your burgeoning feelings for him. He wasn’t interested in a relationship. You weren’t sure if you were either, but you didn’t want to be used and forgotten. You ordered another round and said, “Actually, I forgot about that. That feels like so long ago.” You paused. “Thanks for being quiet on our overnight missions. I haven’t had to knock on your door to be quieter with your overnight guests.” 

He was moving his hand up and down his pint absentmindedly but froze at your last comment. “No…problem. Y/N.” You nodded and took another sip of your beer. “Actually, I haven’t been taking a lot of overnight guests.” 

“Oh.” You weren’t sure if you could ask why and let the words hang in the air. You didn’t know how you felt at that and downed the rest of your beer before awkwardly putting cash down for your half of the meal and drinks and saying goodbye. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize what was happening until you were getting up to leave. 

\-- 

Your next mission with Whiskey went off the rails, to say the least. Gin and Rum learned the governments were moving stock piles of nuclear missiles and other weapons of mass destruction and planning on keeping them armed. Gin and Rum couldn’t identify where the weapons were moving without blowing their cover, so they needed you to get into the servers and download the locations of the weapons sites and blueprints in order to reverse engineer a way to disarm the weapons. Since the information was more sensitive, and the servers were housed underground layers of concrete, you couldn’t just leave a dongle in the server. The servers were underneath a building that was next to Lake Ontario.

Whiskey was watching for issues as you gathered the data needed. You apparently tripped an alarm and guards were on their way to you. _Shit. Hurry up._ You thought to your phone shaped tablet hooked up to the server. As soon as the plans were downloaded, you covered your tracks by making it seem like you downloaded information regarding their spies and campaign plans. The guards saw you and you weaved your way through the servers, getting them lost in the dark room. You found Whiskey at the meet up location and handed him the tablet. “Get going,” you whispered fervently. “They don’t know about you, get out of here.” And you ran the opposite direction of the planned extraction point. You shot some of the guards and fought with any guards that appeared in your way. You’re gun got knocked out of your hand and you pulled out your Statesman lipsticks which turned elongated into escrima sticks after pressing a button. You used their momentum to crash them to the ground and sticks to knock their weaponry. You kept running and felt your arm and legs stung as bullets grazed you and arm broken when you had trouble fighting some more of the guards. You were able to find a jet ski at one of the docks near the building and revved it in a getaway. You heard a whoosh sound and looked behind you. _Aww, fuck,_ you thought as you saw a missile fired at you from a bazooka. It didn’t hit you head on, but you remember the pain and flying through the air and the painful slap of the water. 

You woke up in a hospital bed with several IVs connected to you. You tried not to groan in pain and get a feel of your surroundings, but a grunt escaped you. “Y/N.” you heard your name spoken. 

“What happened?” you tried to say, but your throat was so dry. The room came into focus and you saw the new Ginger Ale handing you some water with a straw. You sipped some and repeated he question. 

“Your mission was successful, but when the missile landed near you, you were thrown into the air, landing hard in the water. We think you cracked several ribs and got a concussion as your body hit the water. You had several other injuries from the fights too. We haven’t developed nanites that can fully heal broken ribs, so you’ve had to heal the long way. You also lost a lot of blood when some shrapnel caught you.”

You nodded, trying to remember. “Where am I?” 

“Statesman, New York.” That’s why the room didn’t look as familiar as the ones you’d been in Kentucky. “This was the closest main Statesman location and lucky I was here training some techs when Whiskey brought you in.” 

The new Ginger Ale did more tests on you and told you to rest some more. The incident occurred 3 weeks ago and you’d have several more weeks until you were healed enough to get out. 

You got frustrated with staying still real quickly. You helped Ginger Ale and your old supervisor with intelligence, but you couldn’t believe how much you missed being out in the field after just a short taste of it. Even if you got your ass kicked the last time you were out there. You were huffing in frustration when you heard a knock on your door and saw it opened. 

“Hey, cowboy.” You found yourself smiling at Whiskey, who let himself in carrying a bag of takeout.

“Hey, darlin’” You blushed, and he continued, “You must be on some drugs if you aren’t chewin’ me out for that one.”   
You tried to shrug, “More like the pain. I’m tryin’ not to take too many pills.” 

“Well, I hope you feel better soon.” He pulled out some food and it smelled delicious. 

“Is that for me?” You asked. 

“Well I was hopin’ to have some company for dinner, but if you’d rather be by yourself, I can leave.” 

“No!” You said immediately, “I mean, no. Please, stay. I’d love some company.” 

He had to help you a few times, but overall enjoyed his visit. You asked him about the mission, if Ginger Ale got what he needed, if there was a nuclear war. He assured you that you did well and Ginger got what he needed. You asked about Arlo and who was taking care of him. 

“Uhh, actually, I am, outside of work hours.” You almost spit the water you were drinking. 

“What?”

“Yeah, I hope it’s okay. He was missing you so bad at the kennel on the first floor, I passed by on my way out of the office and he was just sulking.” You felt your heart move, and you told yourself it was only because your dog missed you. “He reminds me of you. He’s got spunk and doesn’t want to sit still. Too smart for his own good, too.” 

“You smiled, aww, I miss him. Thanks for taking care of him, you didn’t have to.” 

He shrugged, “I miss havin’ a dog around. It’s a nice change. I got a mutt too during my trials.” 

Whiskey visited almost every day and brought you your favorites including black coffee. If he couldn’t make it, it was because he was on a mission or busy with a Statesman meeting he couldn’t sneak out of. 

“It’s a chauvinistic thing, isn’t it?” You asked one day, motioning to the food, “You do this for every girl that gets hurt around here.”   
“No, Sugar.” He replied, “I haven’t done this for anyone before.” 

“Oh.” You replied. “You don’t have to do this.” You stammered, “I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

He reassured you, “It’s my pleasure, Y/N. My pleasure.” 

“I’m glad you’re here. Thank you.” 

“Me too,” he replied. You both ate in comfortable silence. 

\--

You couldn’t go out in the field, but you were finally discharged a couple Saturdays later. You found yourself exploring New York. You hadn’t actually gotten a chance to see it with how busy you were. You found a concert at park and enjoyed the band. “Y/N.” You heard someone say. You turned to see Whiskey standing next to you. 

“Jack,” You said. 

“What are you doing out?” He frowned, “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

You guiltily looked at him, “I just got discharged. I needed fresh air. Or whatever fresh air passes for in New York.” 

“LA ain’t that much better,” he replied. 

“What are you doing here?” You said

He shrugged. “Simon and Garfunkel cover band. You still on meds?” You shook your head, and he offered you his flask. 

“Oh, thank you.” You said as you took a swig of Statesman whiskey. “I was not looking forward to buying overpriced wine.” 

“I thought you might miss that too.” He said, gesturing to the flask. And he started singing along to “50 ways to leave your lover.” You watched him instead of the band, reveling in the way his voice sang each lyric. You were so caught up you didn’t realize when the song ended. “Something wrong, darlin’?” He asked as you kept staring at him. 

“No, no.” you stammered. Why were you so awkward around him? “I just, didn’t expect you to sing along.” 

He looked at you for a while and then said, “That’s a special song…used to listen to it all the time.” You nodded along until he said, “when my wife died.”

“Oh…I’m sorry,” was all you said. He took a long sip from his flask. “You don’t have to talk about it.” 

He continued as if he didn’t hear you, “She was my high school sweet heart. Lela. Pregnant with our son. They…they got caught in the crossfire when two meth-heads decided to rob a convenience store. A fuckin’ convenience store.” He sneered at the end. 

“I’m, I’m really sorry to hear that, Jack.”

He finally looked at you and said “S’okay, Y/N. That’s the part that wasn’t in my files. Champ found me trying to go after the fuckers and instead recruited me to Statesman.” 

You reached out and rubbed his arm in sympathy. He in turn put his other hand over yours. You stood like that, swaying to the music until you felt yourself struggling to stand up. 

“Let’s get you outta here.” He said and waived a cab down for you.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Whiskey try to figure out what’s between you two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the kudos and comments!! I appreciate you guys checking out my work =D 
> 
> Warnings: Violence, mention of sex, mention of piss, cursing, Kingsman physics
> 
> Words: 3.5k

It had been eight months since Jack shared his past with you. In that time you’d sparred with him more, he taught you more tricks with the electric lasso, and you taught him some programming. You continued hanging out with him outside of work and damn, every interaction with him felt nice. At some point you started calling him by his first name and you stopped rolling your eyes when he called you “darling.” You both were trying to figure out dating in the little spare time you both had, and ended up at each other’s apartments more often than not complaining and drinking beer or something harder together. It seemed like both of you just did not understand what it meant to be in a relationship. How could you kid yourselves? Secrets were part of your life and you both had so much baggage, it’d weigh down a 787. Maybe not that dramatic, but it made it difficult to connect to other people. 

But there was finally, finally someone you liked a lot. You found him on a dating app but really enjoyed talking with him. He even called you on the phone. Who did that anymore? But after your hour waiting for him to show up to the quaint Italian restaurant you were supposed to have your date, you gave up. It ended up only being a few blocks from the office and you felt shitty. You had put on makeup, heels, and one of your favorite dresses. You even put on a white gold necklace and earrings. As an agent, you tended not to wear jewelry or get dressed up unless it was needed for an undercover assignment. You badged yourself into the building and wanted to work yourself tired so you wouldn’t feel your disappointment and heaviness anymore. You just wanted to get to the heavy bags in the gym without crying and kept your head down. Because of this, you almost threw Whiskey on his back again when he grabbed your wrist to stop you from continuing. 

“Oh, Jack. Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” You said, trying to get your head straight. 

“Where you goin’ in such a hurry?” He asked, concerned. 

“I just needed to punch something,” You said absentmindedly, thinking of some rounds in your head you wanted to try out with the dummy sparring partners. 

“You look so nice, though. Why don’t you come out with me?” 

“What?” You didn’t think you heard him right. 

“Why don’t you come out with me?” He rubbed the wrist he was still holding. “I wanted to take my boat to see the New York skyline.” 

“You have a boat?” You couldn’t deny your curiosity. 

“Yes ma’am.” He put his hands on his hips and you noticed he was wearing jeans, t-shirt, and leather jacket.

You laughed, “Well, I guess I gotta see how a cowboy like yourself handles himself on the water.” 

It was cool night, and you were slightly shivering despite the blanket Jack had a blanket for you. He had put the controls on autopilot and brought out champagne. He sat next to you, enjoying the view and felt you shiver. He put his arms around you, and said “sorry it’s cold out.” 

“It’s okay. My fault I just came in a dress.” You said, enjoying his hands rubbing up and down your arms. “I’ve never seen the city from this angle.” 

“She’s beautiful, ain’t she?” He responded. “I miss my small hometown, but it sure can be gorgeous here in a different way.” 

You hummed in response, enjoying champagne and being in his arms, keeping you warm. You chatted as you floated lazily on the water. Jack would point out a building, telling you about its history or some other architectural fact. You complained about being ghosted by your date and how difficult it was to meet people now that you actually wanted to do that. He nodded in agreement, and you settled closer to him as the conversation moved onto other topics.

A natural lull came and you both sat there comfortably. You looked at each other, searching each other’s eyes and found no hint of rejection or uncertainty. You felt your stomach clench and your chest tighten in anticipation as you kissed each other under the starlight of the Manhattan skyline. It started off soft, gentle, his lips warming yours. And then you both deepened the kiss when he moved his hand around your head, letting your tongues dance together. You moaned which only made him hungrier, moving his hands up and down your sides, trying to feel and memorize every curve. In turn, you put placed your hand behind his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and moving your body so you were almost straddling him. He pulled away, both of you breathing deeply and murmured, “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you with my lasso.” He kissed you on the lips one more time before saying, “I’d love to keep doin’ this, darlin’ but I gotta make sure we don’t crash into the statue of liberty.” He caressed your shoulders before moving back to the controls. 

You tried calming yourself down but you’d remember his lips on yours. You looked at him as he steered the boat back to the dock. You liked the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and how sometimes they’d make eye contact with you and you’d blush and look away. Just to look back at him. You helped him clean up the glasses you drank with the champagne with and felt his touch linger anytime he passed you as he got the boat ready for storage for the night. 

“So you have a jet, a boat, and a bronco,” you said as you walked from the dock back to his car, arm around his, “What vehicle do you not have?” 

He thought a bit and frowned, “Well technically, the silver pony’s Statesman, not mine. I have a chopper, but don’t use it much.”

You smiled at him, “I was just joking, too…but it would be nice to ride in a helicopter just to see an aerial view, not to just get to the next mission. I’d like a different memory from last time.” You frowned. 

“What happened last time?” Jack asked and you told him other stories from your trials. “I’m glad you got in, and not him. There’s always a cocky prick who thinks it’ll be easy.” 

“Was that you?” You teased him.

“No, I earned my cockiness.” He laughed, “Just kiddin,’ Darling.” You told each other stories of your time in Statesman. Yours were a bit boring compared to his since you just did intelligence, but he hanged onto your every word, and seemed to like learning how you thought and analyzed problems. You didn’t have a life outside of work and it seemed both of you had punished yourselves the past 20 years for events out of your control, by trying to control everything since then. Including expressing your emotions, or lack thereof. 

“I think…” You said when he dropped you off at your door, “That we deserve to be kinder to ourselves…and to each other.” 

“I’d like that.” He replied and kissed you on the lips. He watched you unlock your door and enter the apartment. 

You turned around and leaned on the door frame. “I’ll see you around, Jack.” And closed the door.

\--

As busy spies, you couldn’t really develop a routine, but you would try to see each other outside of missions. And on the occasions you were both in office, take breaks and have lunch with one another. You’d kissed each other several times since the boat ride, but each time it’d heat up you’d get called away for another mission or briefing. 

After a handful of solo missions, and a couple with Gin, you got paired up with Whiskey again to dismantle a mad scientist’s operation to construct and sell weapons on the black market. You were undercover as a potential buyer to see if you could get any information from the scientist. With your background in research you had become familiar with basic physics and science the bad guys kept using. Whiskey was to infiltrate the factory and wipe the memory of the machines so that the weapons could not be rebuilt, or at least set back. 

You met the scientist in his office. Since you were to be a business woman, you wore the Kingsman garb including thick framed glasses and umbrella. You sat in a comfortable guest chair as he sat at his desk with a computer in front of him. His had a slight tan and he a mop of dark brunette hair and was wearing a deep navy suit. His blue eyes were lit up with excitement to talk shop with you. You were discussing the schematics of which chemicals he used to synthesize poisonous gas when you heard what sounded like an explosion through your ear piece. Thank goodness the lab was in a different building from his office. 

“Vodka, we got a problem.” You heard Whiskey say in your ear. 

“Mmhmm?” You responded to both men.

“Yeah, I didn’t get rid of his operations in a sneaky way. On the plus side, I think his plans are gone.” You heard his smug chuckle as your glasses showed he was moving out of the lab. “You should get out of there before he notices.” And just like that you saw the scientist mood shift as whatever was on his computer showed the destruction Whiskey caused. 

“Curious,” The scientist said, “The chemicals we were just talking about seem to have instantaneously combusted.”

“Oh no, was their containment breeched?” You responded in mock concern. 

“Yes.” He replied, his anger rising, “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would you?”

“No, why would I do this? I am quite a fan of your work and am planning on investing billions into this.” 

“Hmm,” He grabbed a device from his desk and walked to your side, standing close to you. You remained seated, relaxed as any other business woman intent on destroying the world would. “Because my personal scanners are showing several bits of high tech on you, including your glasses which are transmitting this meeting.” 

_Shit._ You pushed up from the chair and used the momentum to kick him away from you. He fell on the floor, startled, and you quickly knocked him out with a punch. He was out cold, but you saw his device was now beeping and glowing red. _Shit shit shit._ Three security guards who earlier let you in entered the office, pointing guns at you. You opened the Kingsman umbrella to protect yourself from the spray of bullets, pulling your own gun. You shot one down and used the umbrella to take down the other. The last guard made it closer to you. You quickly holstered your gun and snapped the umbrella shut and used it to disarm the man of his gun, and then used it bring his arm around so that it bent backward at a painful angle. You used him as a shield as you walked down the hallway to three more guards. From your count earlier, these should be it. The rest of the employees should just be civilians who didn’t know the dark intent behind the company. As the guard you were holding got littered with bullets, you pulled a concealed handle from your pocket and pressed button so that an electrified whip crackled to life. Luckily the shock of such an insane weapon stopped the guards enough for you to fling it at them, neatly cutting them in half, cauterizing their wounds immediately. You deactivated and retracted the whip quickly and ran to the extraction point.

Since the mission didn’t go as planned, you and Whiskey were picked up at different locations. He checked up on you later that night. He had cleaned up after the mission too, but you could see some burn marks peeking out on his wrist, arms, neck and face. You were nursing a beer to help numb the pain of the bullets that grazed you now that the adrenaline wore off. You were going to offer him a beer when he came inside but he promptly yelled, “What the hell was that?” 

“What do you mean?” You said, indignantly. “You were the one that blew up the lab instead of erasing the data!” 

He didn’t seem to hear what you said and kept berating you, “You should’ve gotten yourself out of his office easily! What was that fight?” 

You lost track of the yelling soon after that. You were probably arguing about stupid things that didn’t matter at some point. You were both terrified of losing the other, angry each other got hurt and relieved that the other came home relatively safe. But instead of voicing that, you grabbed each other and kissed the life out of the other. You were both desperate, rushed, as if this moment would slip away from you if you didn’t act on it right now. Clothes ended up on the floor as you made your way to your bedroom, and you were both rough and passionate. 

After the cloud of anger and sex and realizing that you cared for him more than a work buddy, you looked at yourself in the mirror after urinating and washing your hands. You allowed yourself a moment to come to terms that you were probably just another notch in his bedpost, and that he was probably getting dressed to leave, if he wasn’t gone already. You sighed and walked back to your bedroom, and it took all your spy training to not show your surprise at him lying there with his eyes roaming your naked body and a smirk playing along his lips. 

Apparently you weren’t furtive enough or he knew you too well because he met your eyes and asked, “What’s wrong, Darling?” 

You went to sit next to him but couldn’t look at his face and said, embarrassed, “I…didn’t think you’d still be here.”

He looked shocked and quickly sat up, “Do you want me gone?”

“No, no,” You replied quickly, “I’m glad you’re here.” 

His concerned expression slowly smiled, “Me too.” 

The next time you came together that night it was unhurried and lazy, savoring the other’s touch and feel.

\--

You had been sleeping with one another for a while now. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping with anyone else and you weren’t ready to ask. You’d both realized that the adrenaline was part of what drew you to your profession but you never did those types of activities for fun anymore. So you’d take his jet and go rock climbing, ride ATVs down sand dunes, or grab a Statesman pilot for a day and go sky diving. If you were staying the night elsewhere, you’d share a room with him. If you were in New York, you’d stay overnight at one another’s apartment.

You had a face to face debrief with Champ at the Kentucky main headquarters since you’d been an agent for almost 2 years. Gin asked you to stay a couple days so you could visit with him. You entered his apartment and felt something stir when Gin’s golden retriever remembered you and immediately begged for pets and treats. After Gin put his things away, you both went out for drinks to catch up. You’d both talked about the wild missions you’d been on since then, how you never expected what it would actually be like, and how your respective offices worked. 

You were texting Jack and when you looked up you saw Gin staring at you suspiciously. “Who are you texting?” He asked. 

“Huh?” You replied, “Why do you ask?” 

He stared at you flatly, “Y/N, we trained together for 3 years. You’ve never had an attachment. We only talk once in a while and you told me I was your first friend in a long time.” 

“You promise to keep this between us?” You asked nervously. You hadn’t planned on telling anyone…whatever it was going on between you and Jack. 

“Yes, of course.” He said, and took another sip of his beer. 

“I’m…sleeping with Whiskey.” 

He almost spit his beer out. “What?” 

You shrugged. “We’ve worked together a lot and hang out with each other outside of missions…I got to know him,” you shrugged again, “It kind of just…happened.” You tried to say casually, but felt yourself blushing. 

“Oh my god.” He said dramatically, “You’re really into him!” You didn’t want to lie to your friend, so you didn’t say anything. When you didn’t respond he asked, “Are you guys like…together?” 

You groaned and crossed your arms, fiddling with your hands. “I don’t know. We haven’t really…defined…or talked about…whatever this is.” He could tell you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore and instead ordered shots. You tried not to look at your phone anymore and had a fun rest of the night out. 

The visit at headquarters was enjoyable, but it was time to get back to New York. On your flight back, Champ told you and Whiskey to go undercover and gather intelligence from a man known to smuggle parts for illegal unstable nuclear reactors. You were to seduce his bodyguard at the club they frequented while Whiskey placed a tracker and became a client to gain the other man’s trust. You were wearing a dress that showed off all your assets and the tallest heels you could reasonably walk in, and completed your look with a smokey eye and seductive red lipstick. 

The bodyguard was handsome with striking eyes, and a strong build. You had flirted the bodyguard away to the dance floor and pretended to enjoy his arms around you. You held your gag reflex in check when your body rolled so that you were teasing his body with yours. It was when he moved his hands to your ass you heard in a southern accent, “Get your hands off of her.” 

“Hey, she came on to me, man.” And the guard held you firmly to him. 

Whiskey pulled his gun out on the bodyguard, and repeated “I said. Let. Go.” You wanted to yell at Jack to stop but kept your façade as a scared civilian. 

The mark was watching the interaction and said calmly, “Let go, Billy. I don’t want trouble here. You’re supposed to be on duty anyways.” 

You left with Jack and could feel both of your angers rising to a peak. You both silently got into the back of a Statesman car and could feel the tension stewing. Even the driver, who normally joked with Jack, was quiet.

“What the hell was that?” You yelled as soon as you entered his office. It was late so you two were the only ones in the building.

“I don’t know!” He yelled back. “My feet moved before I knew what was happening!”

“We lost a big lead!” 

“I know!” Again, the argument got away from you as you both released the pent up anger that had been brewing since the stunt at the club. 

You sighed in defeat, “We can’t keep doing this—us—if it interferes with our jobs.” 

“I just…didn’t like seeing you in the hands of another.” He said, bending over with his hands on his desk. He looked defeated too.

“Why?” You asked. 

“I don’t want you to be with anyone else…when you’re with me.” 

“I don’t know if I’m ready for a serious relationship.” You fiddled with your hands.

“Me too.” He stood at full height and looked at you, “But I want to keep seeing you, being with you, exploring…whatever this is just between us.”

“Are you saying you want to be exclusive?” You asked somewhat hesitantly.

He paused for a while, and although you prepared yourself for rejection, you were glad he was considering the question. “Yes.” 

“I’d like that too,” You said honestly, “But we still might have to do romantic or even X-rated things on missions with others.” 

“Y-Yeah,” He stuttered. “I think I feel better knowing that…we’re together. It makes the act easier to swallow.” 

You took a breath in and out, “And we can try not to do that stuff as much as possible during a mission.” 

He smirked, “You did get them to develop a better tracker than that condom.” 

You scoffed. “I still can’t believe you guys did that for so long. And poor Rum had to watch.” You shook your head. 

He walked towards you and gathered you in his arms, touching his forehead to yours. You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes, breathing him in.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Whiskey have to deal with his mistake during your last mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! To be honest, I’m not sure how I’m going to resolve what happens at the end of this chapter, so if you don’t like angsty cliff hangers, stop reading after their punishment is over. After their punishment ends it goes between Jack's and the reader's POV too (not first person POV).
> 
> Warnings: Cursing, mentions of sex, mentions of torture

“What in the Sam Hill was that?” Champ yelled angrily at you and Jack virtually the next day. You were at your own desk, tapped in through your glasses. Ginger Ale was sitting at the main table with Champ, his ebony skin taut and mouth formed into a thin straight line. Champ took a sip of whiskey and angrily spit into his spittoon. “Not even the taste of our fine whiskey can calm my nerves!” You kept your attention on Champ and wondered what he was feeling. Given the mission ended late last night, it had only given you a few hours to process the whirlwind of events that occurred. He glared and raised an eyebrow, staring both of you down. “What do you have to say, Jack?” 

You didn’t see Jack clenching his jaw or how he was clenching the handle of his whip underneath his desk. 

“I was being overprotective of Y/N.” Jack said curtly as you fiddled with your hands. 

“You know she can handle herself.” Champ looked at the both of you again and sighed, “I don’t know what y’all are doing in New York. And I certainly can’t stop you two from whatever y’all are doing. But you are both spies, Statesman agents, first. A mistake like that could’ve gotten either or both of you killed.” He looked back at Jack, “And Jack, it hasn’t been that long since Golden Circle.” You took that opportunity to look at Jack’s holovideo and you saw him scrunch his face in response. 

“I’m sorry, sir.” He replied.

Champ sighed again and his face softened. “Jack, you’re off active duty for two months. Condense your research on this target and send it to Rum so she can finish your mission.” It was a blow to both of you that you wouldn’t complete the assignment. “Y/N, you’ll be backing up Gin as his handler for two months.” You pursed your lips and nodded. “Dismissed. And don’t let this happen again, you two.” 

Champ and Ginger Ale blinked out the next second and you put your face in your hands and groaned. You wished your office was at least on a different floor so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing Jack. You should’ve been happy about last night—at least after the mission—but it was getting complicated very quickly. You sighed. Now is not the time to be thinking about this. 

You brought up the video feature on your computer and called Gin. He smiled and answered, “Y/N! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon. What’s wrong?” He added when you saw your face. 

You groaned again, “I really shouldn’t have made any friends.” 

He laughed at your response, “You know you love me. Fine. You don’t have to tell me.” You sighed in relief too soon as he added, “Yet.” 

“Let’s get to business.” You said and Simon shook his head gently as he recognized your refusal to deal with your emotions. “Champ said I’m your tech support for the next two months. What do you have going on?”

“Nice!” You shook your head at his attitude. Spy life was suiting Simon well, and the cowboy hat was starting to feel a bit more natural on him. He proceeded to brief you on a lead he was following. He had identified a company that had a potential plan to blow up refineries, coal mines, oil wells, gas plants and other facilities, which would kill millions and inadvertently cause a global oil spill as all the containment would be destroyed. 

“All right. I’ll start researching the company and we’ll make a plan for you to infiltrate them and find evidence to incriminate them next week.” You started looking into the company and placing security alerts on the larger oil rigs, refineries, and mines to monitor for activity. 

The end of the day came too slow and you started getting ready to leave. You weren’t sure if you were ready to talk to Jack but he knocked on your door and let himself in. He smiled shyly at you and asked if you wanted to have dinner together. Your stomach twisted but you couldn’t deny that you wanted to spend time with him. You told him to surprise you and you’d grab beer on the way to your apartment. He had gotten chow mein and kung pao chicken to share. As you let him into your apartment, Arlo barked excitedly and ran up to him, wagging his tail. Jack put the food on your dining table and squatted down to pet the spoiled dog. Jack’s facial expression softened and his eyes seemed to light up for the first time after Champ chewed you guys out. You let them play together while you finished setting the table and getting the food out. 

He held your sides and kissed you, letting his lips linger on yours before pulling back. You both sat down and started eating when he said, “I’m sorry I got you into trouble too, Sugar.” 

You reached and grabbed his hand across the table. “It’s okay, Jack. We’re partners.” You paused, unsure to say the next part, “Are you okay, though?” 

He took another bite to give him a moment to think how much he wanted to tell you. 

“Yes…I’m not ready to tell you about Golden Circle…but give me some time and I will be.”

“I know all about not being ready to talk.” You chuckled, “Take all the time you need. I only know that Harry and Eggsy prevented the death of millions and Tequila and Roxy finished dismantling The Golden Circle. I won’t look into it further too.”

He smiled in appreciation, “Thank you Darlin,’ you’re too good to me.” 

\--

It took some getting used to not being in the field again. At least you got to support Gin and watch him go through the movements of going undercover and completing missions. “Server room is to the right…put your watch next to the badge reader and I’ll let you in…there. Open.” You said into the mic as Gin completed his mission. 

You signed off and continued with your paper work. As things got slow you would lock Jack’s office door behind you and seduce him. Or he would tease you by leaving notes in your office with the filthy things he had planned for you. You’d barely wait to get home and would try to be quiet in either of your offices.

It was after a sparring session two weeks into punishment when Jack finally told you what happened when Poppy Adams tried to make recreational drugs legal. You both needed to keep your skills up even if you weren’t active on any missions. You were sitting on the mat and passed him a water when he said, “I almost let millions of people around the world die.” 

You spit out your water, “What? Now? How?”

“No, no. During the Golden Circle mission.” He sighed and you waited for him to continue as you cleaned up your mess with a nearby towel, “Even though Lela and our son had died almost 20 years prior, I never really dealt with the loss. I fooled myself into thinking I had grieved them and gotten over it. I thought, if I could sleep with all these women, of course that means I’ve moved on from Lela. But in reality, I let my anger, rage, sadness, and loneliness fester,” He gestured to his chest, “I never stopped to think, let the adrenaline and the sex get me through the days.” He stammered and looked elsewhere. “Something snapped when I saw Eggsy holding a vial of the antidote we just risked our lives to get. In that moment, I needed anyone and everyone who had even tried drugs—any kind—not just meth, to die. I needed that revenge for Lela…for them.” He sighed and looked at you then. He offered you the water.  
You took a sip and replied, “What happened? Did you fight Harry and Eggsy?” 

“No, I almost did. Harry shot me in the head from point blank range.” You gasped but he continued, “I deserved it. It was the only way to stop me. Ginger Ale revived me after Eggsy applied the alpha gel and in a moment of clarity I told her what I was going to do. She got Champ involved and I got demoted for a while.” 

“Was that why you were in Kentucky during the candidate trials right after that mission?”

“Yes. Champ moved me back there to keep a better eye on me and monitor me.” 

“That’s why he said you were back on active duty when he announced me and Simon as Statesman.” Jack nodded. You paused, letting it sink in before saying, “Thank you for telling me.” 

“Thank you for being patient with me.” 

“If…it’s too much to be with me, because of Lela. I understand.” You said honestly.

“I don’t want to break us up.” He said. You nodded, thinking about how much he loved his wife for almost letting all those people die. His heart was hers and you didn’t think he would ever asked for it back. You wondered if you could live with a hole in your chest again, could stop yourself from letting it get filled further.

“You want to go another round?” You asked instead and put the water bottle down, getting up and walking to get knives for the next session.

Before Whiskey could reply, his Statesman watch, connected with fitness bands for sparring, chimed. “Agent Whiskey,” Champ’s voice came through. 

“Yussir,” He replied, keeping an eye on you.

“Can you call into this investor’s meeting? We want your take on our portfolio.” 

“I’ll be there right away.” He turned to you and said, “I’ll take you on another time, Darlin.’” 

You nodded and moved on to a different table with knives. This table didn’t just have throwing knives, but kitchen knives, butcher knives, skinning knives and more. 

You needed to practice with all kinds of objects as weapons in case you could only use what was around you in a fight. You moved the table to in front of a target and started practice. 

You tried calming yourself and breathing, but you couldn’t stop the thoughts. 

_What if he never loves me?_ The knife landed 1 inches from the bull’s eye.

 _Do I love him?_ The knife landed 2 inches from the bull’s eye. 

_I don’t know._ The knife landed 1.5 inches from the bull’s eye, but sank the deepest from your forced throw. 

In a bout of frustration, you threw the butcher’s knife at the target and you had to duck quickly when instead of landing cleanly, bounced off it and back towards you. You threw you fist to the ground and yelled in frustration. 

It was then you heard a disappointed clucking sound. You wiped the tears beginning to form at your eyes and looked up. “Ginger Ale? What are you doing here?” 

Ginger Ale had shaved his head. You chuckled internally, he was starting to look like Merlin when he had to wear glasses for a mission. Thank goodness he didn’t wear the same sweaters that the British Agency’s wizard wore. Instead Ginger Ale was wearing dark jeans, dark boots, and a light gray button up, tablet held to his side. “Scheduled check up on the tech teams here. And looks like I need to be checking up on you too. Your aim is atrocious. I thought you were the best of your class.” He said, attention on your target. You held his gaze but didn’t say anything in defiance. “Yes, I was surprised you and Whiskey got together.”

“I didn’t say anything.” You said in shock. 

“You didn’t need to.” He shook his head. “Come on, show me you’re the best.” Ginger Ale put his tablet down and picked up a pair of the original knives you were looking at. He handed one to you and beckoned you with his hand in challenge. “I need to keep my skills up too, in order to train the next round of candidates.” 

You took his other knife and planted your feet apart, one hand in front of your face, the other slightly lower holding the knife in a fighting grip. He came at you fast and you failed to block his attacks, soon having the knife at your throat. “Be in the fight. Be in the now.” He said and that was all the warning you got before the next round started. You started gaining your focus back, putting your anger and confusion into your movements, moving backwards as he attacked forwards until you got the upper hand and started pushing him back and you had your knife at his throat. “Getting better. But this should be easy for you. You’re a Statesman agent.” In your third bout there were no thoughts. Just attacks and blocks. Grunting from impact as you stopped each other’s advances and sweat from the effort. You both stopped short from where you both would’ve stabbed each other in the gut. “Tie. Good.” 

You stepped back from one another and fist bumped. “Thanks, Ging. I needed that.” 

“Any time, Agent Vodka, Any time.” 

\-- 

You were spending a lot of time at Jack’s place. You learned not to get an unintelligible response until he had his morning coffee. He learned you had a whole nightly routine before going to bed where he shouldn’t disturb you. You both could get extremely grumpy and needlessly snappy if hungry. You hadn’t spent so much time with mostly one person before. 

“I think I love him,” you blurted out to Simon a month after your sparring session with Ginger Ale. You were watching him successfully prevent the assassination attempt on the president. 

“Well. Duh.” He said, flatly.

“What do you mean “Well, duh!”” You said, thinking you had been keeping it to yourself. Simon twisted the knife in the body, verifying it was dead, before pulling it out of the body and cleaning the blood off. “I’ll send a clean up team for that body and the others now.” 

“Thanks.” You could tell he was shaking his head by the way his glasses viewed the room. “You talk about him all the time. When you’re not talking about him, you’re with him. I mean, you’re practically moved in to his place!” 

You pursed your lips. “I didn’t realize I was so obvious.”

“It’s okay. You were only slightly more annoying. And it was better listening to that then hearing radio silence from you.” Simon started walking out of the building and to the Statesman car which would be his extraction. “Are you going to tell him?” 

“I, I don’t know.” You stammered, “I think he’s not over someone from his past. I don’t want to force him into saying anything he doesn’t mean, you know? 

“Are you okay with that? Please don’t lie to me.”

“Fine…um…If I’m honest, I guess it does hurt. To think I might not mean as much to him as he means to me. But, y’know, we have a good time together. I don’t want to ruin that.” 

“Um, earth to Y/N. Feelings are what happen when you’re in a relationship with someone.” 

“Yeah…”

“Wouldn’t it feel better to have it out in the open? Instead of bottling it up inside? You know how that feels.”

“Yes, I do. I’ve done it my whole life. I’ll…think about it.” 

\--

You’d practically moved into Jack’s place when your punishment ended. You were both active field agents again and Champ asked you to go undercover. A rich woman was training her own personal guard of female assassins and politicians so she could rise to power. You were to be recruited by them so that you could dismantle them from the inside. You wouldn’t be able to wear anything that emitted a signal and you couldn’t give yourself away by bringing any spy tech so you would be essentially going dark. 

“You’re sure you’re okay taking care of Arlo for a while?” You asked Jack the night before you were to leave. 

“Yes, Baby. He’ll be great company.” He nodded and you handed your dog to him. 

“I’m going to miss you.” 

“I’m going to miss you too. It sucks we won’t even be able to text or call.” You agreed and kissed him, spending one last night with him before you’d be gone for who knows how long. 

The mission was tough as you had no support throughout it. You pretended to agree with the ideology the woman was spewing, how it was her right to rule the world and you were given the honor of being in her “army.” They were impressed with your skill and you rose easily in their ranks. It had taken months of loneliness and calculated moves, but you were able to end her and her recruitment and get some of the trainees to join Statesman. You were happy to finally get back home. To Jack. 

You let yourself into his apartment and saw clothing littered along the entryway. You heard your heart beat in your ears. You followed the trail of clothes to the living room. You saw Jack and another woman 69ing each other on his couch. You were so used to operating on a mission that you were silent enough they didn’t notice you. You grabbed Arlo and left. It seemed Arlo noticed your mood and didn’t make a sound. 

Each agent had safe houses around the globe and you went to yours. You sent Ginger Ale and Champ an encrypted message saying you were going dark and that you’d check the messages if they really needed you. They knew what that meant. 

[Jack]

Jack pulled away from the woman when he heard his phone ring the Statesman ringtone, “Yeah?” He said, angry that they disrupted him. The woman moaned as he kept fingering her.

“Whiskey, is that Agent Vodka?” Champ asked. 

“What? No. Why?” The woman was still fingering herself after he pulled his hands away. 

“She went dark after just coming back from a mission. Thought you might’ve seen her in New York but clearly you’re at home. Well, I hope so, at least.” 

Jack didn’t think much of the call until he saw Arlo was gone when he let the woman out. He checked the security tapes. _Fuck._ He saw you entered the apartment and must’ve seen them…You’d left with the dog. _Goddammit! Fuck_

He tried calling you, leaving messages: 

“Y/N? Call me. Please.” 

“Y/N, please…I don’t know what you think you saw…can we just talk?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me, I swear.” 

[You]

You laughed bitterly at the last message you got. You watched the security footage. You were on a mission for months. He slept with her 1-2 times each week for at least the past 4 weeks. Fuck. You couldn’t deal with if he was doing it longer than that. You were on a bus…somewhere. You bought the first ticket offered to you. Your mind was spinning. You hadn’t processed what you did in your most recent mission and weren’t really settled with your relationship with Jack before you left for that mission. And now this? You told each other you weren’t comfortable with labels but agreed to be exclusive. You were, at least. Even in missions you did undercover, you took the harder way even though it would be so easy to sleep with a mark. 

You’d found a motel for the night and drank cheap vodka until you couldn’t think anymore. It’s who you were now, right? Vodka. In that moment you loathed who you were. Fuck everything. You turned Arlo into a no kill shelter the next day. Fuck Statesman. Fuck everything they made you think you could have. You were better off alone. Alone was better than this, than getting hurt.

\--

You were done moping after a couple days. You felt cried out. You went back to existing and took the reprimand from Champ to train some of the non-combatants and do more paperwork. You didn’t think you felt anything. The hole you felt in your chest from before becoming a field agent became deadweight.  
Jack entered your office later that day. “Y/N.” He said. 

“Yes, Agent Whiskey.” You said coolly.

He seemed taken aback by your response. “Uhh, nothing. Welcome back.” 

You nodded, going back to your paperwork. 

You heard a knock on your door later that night. “Y/N.” You heard Whiskey’s voice and sighed. You opened the door and let him into your apartment. “Are we just going to forget what happened? Shouldn’t we talk about it?” He said.

“What do you want to talk about?” You said levelly. He didn’t reply, expecting more yelling from you. You shrugged, “I didn’t want you to feel like you owed me anything. Even an explanation.”

“What about what you owe me?” He responded.

“And what would I owe you?” You yelled. “You cheated on me, Jack. After we agreed to be exclusive.” 

He looked at you with wild eyes, his chest was huffing in and out deeply, “I—I—.” He yelled in frustration, “I don’t know!” 

You sighed. You still cared for him, you dipshit. You decided to help him out, saying in a leveled voice, “What do you want, Jack? We told each other we were going to be exclusive. I didn’t care what the label was. I just…expected you to uphold that. I’m sorry I was gone for so long. Maybe you needed to whet your whistle. Maybe I shouldn’t have looked at the security footage. But I know you slept with her for at least a month. Maybe longer. I couldn’t bring myself to see. It was like you were exclusive with her. And if you want her, great. Go be with her. Just leave me alone.” You couldn’t help the cry that left your mouth at the last sentence. He tried to comfort you, but you yelled “Don’t touch me!” 

“No, I don’t…I don’t know…I don’t want to be with her…it was just sex…I missed you.” He mumbled. 

You shook your head and laughed, “I missed you so goddamn much, Jack,” Your feelings started bubbling up. “I actively maneuvered my way through the mission so that I could avoid anything remotely romantic…I guess I thought you would do the same. Thinking of you kept me sane through it! God I had to wait to make a move to save those girls…I had to see them in pain and tortured and wait until I could do something. And I pictured your voice in my head. Telling me it would be okay. That it was for the end game. That sometimes, this was how it worked.” 

“I’m…I’m sorry.” He said, “She doesn’t compare to you. It was just sex…I was scared about how close you and I were getting…I didn’t know how to deal with the fear.” 

You stared at him looking defeated, “I just can’t trust you anymore.” You got your keys and left to get shitfaced, not wanting to think or feel anymore. You were sloppy and stumbling back to your apartment, later that night, alone. You felt you were being followed but couldn’t see anyone. As you passed an alley way, you felt yourself get knocked out. You tried to fight when you came to but felt something get injected into your neck and fell into blackness. 

-

[Jack]

Jack left determined to get into your good graces the next day. When you told him you didn’t trust him, it felt like you cut him in two. He knew anything further he’d say that night would make it worse, so he let you go. He didn’t know that was his next big mistake when it came to you. 

He was surprised to see that you hadn’t gotten into the office several hours into the work day. He called Champ and asked if the leader of the agency had seen you.  
“No,” Champ said, and then, “Merlin, do you have anything on Agent Vodka?”

Ginger Ale started pulling up security camera footage on his tablet on the streets near your apartment. He frowned and brought footage onto Champ’s and Whiskey’s screen. It was a far camera but showed you stumbling down the street and then getting knocked out and dragged away.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack needs to find you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! I didn’t have any inspiration but I saw some people were reading this so it encouraged me to keep writing! I keep writing Merlin’s name instead of Ginger Ale, so if you see Merlin’s name and it doesn’t make sense, it’s for Ginger Ale
> 
> I also don’t know the limits of the human body so sorry if anything doesn’t make sense or is too grotesque. But it is Kingsman *shrug*
> 
> This goes back and forth between Jack and the reader again.
> 
> Rating: M
> 
> Warnings: Torture, Violence, Intent of rape, Cursing (It's not a happy chapter...)
> 
> Words: 3.3k

“Shit.” All three men said at once when they saw you had gotten kidnapped. Jack’s head was spinning, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He replayed the recording twice more. On the third he came back to reality. He felt heavy in his chair, limbs granite, chest tight, ears ringing as if a bomb detonated next to him. He didn’t hear the plan Champ was laying out.

“I need to find her.” Jack said suddenly. Champ stopped mid-sentence and looked at him through the Statesman glasses virtual lens. “Please don’t give this case to anyone else.” Jack begged, “Please let me the one to find her.”

Champ turned to look at Ginger Ale. Words unspoken passed as they held eye contact. Ginger Ale’s jaw tightened, showing his already sharp cheek bones. Ginger Ale nodded once, imperceptibly. Champ’s nod was more visible. 

Champ turned back to Whiskey, expression unreadable. “Jack, I don’t know what happened between you and her, but it couldn’t have been good if we’re where we’re at right now.”

“I…I hurt her.” 

“We know.” Champ said darkly. The words knocked Jack back. “She wasn’t the one moaning in the background when we called you a few days ago.” 

Jack stared back, hands fisted, muscles tight in stress. “Please, Champ.” He’d forgotten about that call.

Champ looked back once at Ginger Ale and said, “Fine, but if I see you unable to do this because of your history with her, I’ll be reassigning it.” 

Jack nodded. “Thank you.” 

“Ginger, please help Jack. Can your other cases be given to your support team?”  
“Yes, Champ.” Ginger Ale said and began reassigning his work. “Whiskey, I’ll contact you in half an hour after I turnover my other work.” He said before signing off.

Jack pulled a page from your book and hit the gym while he waited for Ginger Ale. He knew he wouldn’t be of any help if he was a mess. He went to the target area, passing by the mat where he told you about the Golden Circle. He was so nervous that day, he wasn’t sure how you’d react but he didn’t want to keep it away from you anymore. You had listened, you had been compassionate, and he felt he didn’t deserve it. 

He kept walking and opened the doors to a large area with human shaped targets stationed throughout the area and unhooked a handle from his belt. Jack warmed up and then pushed the button on the handle, releasing the rope. He started hitting each target with the whip, starting with the closest. As he got into the rhythm he remembered his actions while you were gone. 

You were gone for a month so far and Jack missed you so much. He was looking through photos on his phone he had taken of you, some taken when you weren’t looking. A photo you had sent to him of you and him holding your pint glasses in cheers when you started getting drinks with him. It was dark and blurry due to the alcohol but he remembered the joy he felt being with you. You scaling a large rock cliff with determination written all over your face. What wasn’t captured was the pride Jack had at being able to witness you climbing with the grace of a large jungle cat. You sleeping in his bed with nothing but his sheets covering you, your face soft with sleep. It had felt so right that night, he had to snap a picture to remember. 

He realized he was falling in love with you. And it terrified him. What if you left him? What if you died like Lela and his unborn child? He didn’t think he could survive that again. No, he had to protect his heart, he couldn’t be vulnerable like this. Losing Lela—it nearly killed him. He had to steel himself against what he was feeling towards you. 

He couldn’t remember meeting that woman, just the burn of whiskey he drank that night. She slid next to him in the booth he was at, alone. He didn’t stop her advances, mind clouded with alcohol and desire to feel something other than loneliness. When he woke the next morning, she had texted him her number. He held his head in his hands, staring at the ground, realizing what he had done the night before. 

Guilt weighed like lead in his stomach and he reached out to call you before realizing he couldn’t contact you during this mission. He wouldn’t do this again, it was a momentary relapse, and he’d tell you as soon as you returned what happened, hoping you’d forgive him. But when the loneliness and complicated feelings for you and Lela arose, he found himself returning her texts and inviting her over. 

And for some inexplicable reason he let it continue. He’d see her between the missions he had done, craving comfort even if it was feigned through sex. He’d wake up guilty every morning after but couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t bear being alone. 

In his attempt to shield his heart, he broke yours. 

He remembered the look on your face when you left his apartment with your dog. Shock, walking as if you were forcing yourself to remember to put one foot in front of the other. Your blank face at the office a few days later, eyes without life and body language that of a shell of a human. The tears in your eyes when you said you couldn’t trust him. 

Jack had been throwing his whip so hard, the momentum brought him to the ground and he lost grip of the handle, falling uselessly next to him. He stayed there, chest heaving, hands and knees on the ground, sweat a sheen on his face. When he felt he could move again, he got up. He would find you and you would be alive. You had to be. 

\--

[You]

You were shocked awake with a painful slap across your face.

“Thank you, Tony” You heard a voice say as you slowly opened your eyes. You were sitting in a chair, hands tied behind you and your legs tied to the front legs of the chair. Your head was pounding and you felt sick—a combination of a strong hang over, dehydration, and whatever drugs they pumped into your system. 

“Do you remember me?” The voice said again. You looked up at him, it was difficult with only one lamp lit up in the room directly above the man. This time he slapped you across the face. “I said, do you remember me?” You grunted in pain and eventually your sight cleared to show his blue eyes staring angrily into yours, his brown hair somewhat lit by the dull lighting in the room. 

“Scientist…” you mumbled, still feeling the effects of the drugs and alcohol slowing you down. “Dr. Robertson…” It was the scientist you had knocked out while Whiskey blew up his lab. That triggered your mind to remember your last conversation with Jack and what you caught him doing a few days before that. You wanted to throw up for reasons other than the alcohol now, but held it back. 

“That’s right. You set my production and plans behind by years, girl.” He said, gripping your face so that you couldn’t look elsewhere. But in your periphery you could see at least 3 guards with him, one of them being the one that slapped you awake. “I thought you were so smooth and smart, how you killed my guards and your partner taking out our work. I must admit, you were easy to find stumbling around drunk, two nights in a week, I might add. I’ll ask you nicely, this once. Who do you work for?” 

It took a while for you to process his words and make sense of it, “No one. I’m by myself.” You said, realizing you had already made yourself by recognizing the scientist. The scientist gestured and one of his goons punched you in the gut. You grunted in pain, almost losing your control over the contents of your stomach. 

“Bullshit. You had a partner. And you have to have an agency backing you with the tech I found on you that day. Funny you have none on you now. I was hoping to use your tech to bring your agency down. Maybe your partner will come for you, instead.” 

“It’s all mine…I don’t know…what you’re talking about.” You said in between gasps. 

“I have more important things to do than this. Tony, take over. Get the information from her.” The doctor said before walking out from the room. 

“The more you lie and don’t tell us, the more we’ll hurt you.” Another man said, coming in front of you, wearing brass knuckles. 

“I know how this goes, goon.” You said in response as coolly as you could, but thought it came out slurred. You were still slow from everything. 

“Suit yourself.” Tony said, before proceeding to beat you. Each hit hurt and each head shot made you see stars. He didn’t give up until you lost control and threw up the contents in your stomach from the day before. “Shit.” You tried to say. He was covered with your vomit. You couldn’t feel satisfied about it as you were blacking out. 

“Bitch.” He said, hitting you even harder than before, making you fully black out. 

The next time you woke up, you were in a small cell. It was a room with cement floors and cement sides with one steel door in front of you. Your ankle was chained to the wall but it was long enough where you could walk around the room. There was a jug of water to the side, and you took a few sips, unsure if this would be the only water given to you. 

Your head was still pounding, and now your body was sore from the beating as well. Time would then pass in a pattern. One of the guards would unchain you from your cell and walk you to the original room you woke up in. They’d chain you to a wall there and you came to think of it as a torture chamber. _How cliché,_ you thought at one point. They would keep asking you about who you worked for and who your partner was, and you put all your will into resisting them. What little of your mind was left hid in the back of your mind as you felt as if you were drowning, unable to breathe. When you’d pass out, you’d wake up inside your cell. Maybe they left you water or a crust of bread. Torture. Pass out. Repeat. You had almost escaped once, when they were complacent and you saw an opening. For that, they broke your legs without setting them. 

“You killed my friend, you know.” One of them said as you were chained to a cold table. They started slicing you with a scalpel, deep enough for excruciating pain, but not enough to cut a major artery. “The scientist doesn’t care about you anymore. He said you could be our experiment. Our plaything.” You could see the sinister smiles in their faces as they got off on hurting you.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed. You felt like an animal. No thoughts except to survive and to keep your secrets. You were shivering in your cell in fetal position. It was so hot, but so cold. You knew you had lost more blood with the pool forming at your side from a poorly sealed wound. They were breaking you and patching you back enough just to break you again. 

\--

[Jack]

“There has to be something we can track her with.” Jack said angrily to Ginger Ale. It had been weeks since you disappeared, and Jack and Ginger Ale kept having this conversation like a broken record. 

“I’m sorry, Whiskey. She’d just been dark during her mission and right after.” Ginger Ale said, giving Jack a pointed look. Jack grunted in response. “I don’t know why she didn’t even leave her apartment without her phone. It was still at her place. And there’s nothing useful on it.” 

_Because I hurt her so much she just left as fast as possible._ Jack thought, frustrated. 

He had walked around all your neighborhood, looking for clues, anything to help find you. The only lead they had was a small rectangle with a silhouette of a spider painted on the corner of the van. And it had taken precious days for the techs to render that image. 

It was the billionth time Jack looked at the photo of the van. Ginger Ale had cross referenced the small blurry logo on the van against any and every symbol they had in their data base and over the internet. Jack could’ve sworn he’d seen the symbol before though. He was cleaning his pistols when he remembered where the symbol came from. He called Ginger Ale over immediately, “The spider! It was on some of the equipment in the lab I exploded while Y/N was…with the scientist.” His words slowed as he got to the end, remembering the scientist was not known for kindness and that he employed ruthless, cruel thugs. His chest swelled at the memory of what occurred after that mission and he cursed again. 

Ginger Ale pulled up the file on that mission. “Robertson labs? A pharmaceutical company front for major weapons supplier?” 

“Yes.” 

Ginger Ale continued researching them, “Looks like they moved their facilities after that incident. Near Chicago.” 

“Do you think they’re keeping her there?” Jack asked, cautiously optimistic.

“I don’t think they’d leave her far from him and he has been seen multiple times in the area.” 

\--

Jack entered the nondescript building where Ginger Ale’s surveillance showed you should be based on the comings and goings of the guards in Dr. Robertson’s employ. Rum would be going to the main building, finding evidence to incriminate the lab and then destroying the servers. Jack picked the lock and entered the dark building after Ginger Ale told him he was done fixing the security feed. He took every sight and sound in, aiming his gun ahead of him. His silencer kept him undetected as he shot down the guards he saw as they appeared. He got to a room with its door slightly opened and listened to the voices. 

“What should we do next?” He heard one say. 

“Do you think she can handle electrocution?” Another responded.

The last one then said, “How tight do you think her pussy is?” As soon as Jack heard those words, he moved in, and swiftly shot them in the legs. At the same time, he pulled his lasso out, using it to disarm them of their guns. 

“You sick fucks!” Jack yelled, replacing his lasso with his whip quickly and using to furiously attack them. The whip was leaving angry marks and drawing blood.

“Whiskey, you need to move on and find Vodka.” He heard Ginger Ale say through his glasses. Jack cursed, shot your abusers in the head and confirmed they were dead before finding a switch that unlocked all the cell doors. 

Jack found your cell and as soon as he laid eyes on you, he wished he could’ve spent more time making those thugs suffer. He put two fingers on your neck and let out a sigh in relief as he felt your pulse. Weak, but there. He removed his suit jacket and placed it over you gently. “I’ve gotcha.” He murmured into your ear as he picked you up from the floor, arm supporting your knees and back. 

“Y/N, please, stay alive.” Jack said to you as he ran as fast as he could to where Ginger Ale was waiting with a medical helicopter. “I can’t lose you, too.” 

It took a while for you to realize you were not being carried to the torture chamber and that the person carrying you is doing so with a gentle, caring hand. You try to recognize the voice talking to you, begging you to wake up and to be okay. You blearily tried to open your eyes. “Jack?” 

Whiskey tried not to yell in response to your weak voice. His anger was directed at those who kidnapped you, at your torturers, at himself, but not you. “I’m here Darlin.’ I got you now.” 

“Hurt…” you whisper, and for the first time feel yourself whimper in pain and the world go dark. 

Jack holds you as tight as he dares so that your wounds don’t get worse. He brings you up to the extraction point where Rum is waiting with the information she extracted while he saved you. She’s telling Ginger Ale where she’s going next to destroy the remaining labs. Ginger Ale nods and dismisses Agent Rum and tells Jack to place you on the bed in the helicopter. Jack straps into the extra seat on the helicopter watching Ginger Ale and Statesman doctor work on you. 

Jack just stared at you as they work, hooking IVs to your arms. He didn’t understand the medical terms and procedures being said. He watched your monitor beep with your weak pulse and is forced to stay sitting down when he heard the alarm blaring and Ginger Ale saying, “She’s going into shock. Intubate now.” 

When they get to the hospital, they shoo Jack from the operating room. He wished to stay but knew he’ll just get in the way and he can’t risk that. Jack left to take a walk throughout the vast expanse of the distillery property. He heard Ginger Ale through his glasses a few hours later and saying that they’re not letting visitors see you the rest of the night and to come back tomorrow. It was hard to leave you there when he had literally just gotten you back. 

Jack got to the hospital wing as early as he could the next day. Gin had just gotten back from a mission and had gotten there earlier. Gin was leaving as Jack arrived and as soon as Gin saw him, he seethed angrily, “You.” And threw a hard right hook at Jack. 

Jack took the hit but blocked Gin’s next one. Gin took Jack’s shoulder and kneed him in the gut. Jack grunted back and jabbed Gin, aiming for the nose. The punch landed, but Gin used the opening to kick Jack in the side. The brawl lasted a few more hits before Jack stepped back and yelled, “What the hell was that for?” 

“You fucking hurt her.” Gin said back, anger simmering. Those words were the worst hit Gin could’ve given. “I know you did.” Jack still didn’t say anything, he had nothing. He just wiped the blood from his face and rubbed his bruised side. 

Jack stared, “I…I’m sorry.” Gin huffed in response. “I know you’re her friend, and you’re close…but why are you this angry?” Jack asked, confused at their fight.

“She fucking loved you!” 

“What?” Jack said, flabbergasted. 

“She told me before her long mission.” Gin sighed. “That she thought she was in love with you.” Gin shook his head. “I shouldn’t have told you that.” He turned around and started to walk away.

“Wait—” Jack yelled, and Gin stopped without turning his body to him. “Why didn’t she tell me?”   
Gin turned his head slightly, “She said she didn’t think you were over someone from your past and…she didn’t want to force you into saying it back.”

Jack stood there as Gin walked away, frozen in shock. He didn’t know that’s how you felt about him. He was scared he didn’t matter to you as much as you mattered to him. The familiar ache of self-loathing bloomed in his chest and his heart broke into a million pieces again.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s a long road to recovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos! I had a harder time continuing to write about angsty feelings so this is a shorter chapter with hurt/comfort. Back to switching between Jack and protagonist. 
> 
> Words: 3k
> 
> Warnings: reference to the torture/violence in past chapters, cursing

[Jack]

Jack heard the hospital wing doors open and Ginger Ale tell him to follow him. He walked, struggling to listen to Ginger Ale’s update on you. Ginger opened the door to your room and let Whiskey in. You looked so fragile there, bundled in gauze and casts that glowed with the Statesman healing nanites. 

“I’ll give you some time. I need to debrief with Gin and check in with Rum.” He heard Ginger Ale say as the door closed behind him. Jack collapsed in the empty chair next to you. He gingerly touched your arm, a bare square inch where there wasn’t any wounds. He put his head in his hands again, letting go of the emotions he’d welled up inside when he took on the assignment to find you. Tears dripped down his face and his chest heaved. This was too much, he couldn’t take it all in. You—loved—him? Did you still love him? There was no way you could, not after what he put you through, not after what you went through. He ran his fingers through his hair under his hat. _God,_ he thought, _I’m such an asshole._ It didn’t even cross his mind that you could fall in love with him. His flaws, his past, his possessiveness. He didn’t think himself a creature deserving of love. And he writ his own fate in the stars himself. He threw all he had with you away, for what? A few fucks when he felt lonely?

 _Why didn’t you just tell me you loved me?_ He thought angrily. _Because you thought I was still in love with Lela…_ He finished his own thought. _Lela will always have a special part in my heart._ Did he have room in his heart for you too? 

He spent all his free time with you until he’d get called by Champ for a meeting or for a mission. Ginger Ale must’ve primed Champ Whiskey’s distracted state because he’d never get a hard mission that required his full attention. And they were always so short that he’d be back at headquarters within a few days maximum. He started seeing one of the Statesman psychologist’s again, giving voice to the darkness, anger, and confusion he felt within. Champ didn’t send him back, New York could handle itself without Whiskey for a bit. 

\--

A month later, Jack was informed you had woken up while he was on a mission. Ginger Ale wouldn’t say what happened and instead let Jack watch the footage from the camera in your recovery room. 

The video showed you slowly blinking your eyes open. A nurse was in there checking your vitals and noticed you awake. The nurse called for Ginger Ale and gave you some water for your dry throat.

“Where am I?” You asked as Ginger Ale entered with his tablet in one hand.

“The hospital wing.” Ginger Ale replied, professionally. “Do you know who I am?” 

You scrunched your face and said, “Ginger…Ale.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you are?”

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.” You replied, instantly.

“Do you know who you work for?” As soon as Ginger uttered those words, you started hyperventilating and screaming no. Ginger Ale tried calming you down, but you wouldn’t listen, heart rate monitor beeping fast and you tried to pull the IVs from your arm. “Sedate her.” Ginger Ale said to the nurse, and before you could pull anything out injected you with a syringe. You fell lifelessly down. The nurse smoothed your hair, and Ginger Ale fixed your body and sheets in place before sighing. 

Ginger Ale stopped the footage and Jack asked, “How is she now?”

“Still sedated.”

“Can I see her?” Ginger Ale nodded.

Jack sat next to you again, frowning and running his hand over your hair. He would do anything for you to wake up. He sat there for hours, ignoring his responsibility to debrief from his last mission. 

You stirred some time later, opening your eyes slowly. Jack hadn’t left you and watched you from his seat. He brought the water to your lips and you sipped. 

You stared at him, your eyebrows furrowed until you said, “Jack?” 

Although his heart felt heavy, he smiled slowly and said, “Yes, Darlin’?” 

“Wh-what happened?” You said weakly. 

“You were taken. Tortured. We were able to rescue you but you’ve been in a coma for around a month.” He watched you nod slowly. “What do you remember?” 

“Pain.” You said immediately but then paused. “It’s all…fuzzy. I don’t know, I’m sorry.” 

“Nothing to apologize for, Sugar.” Jack replied, “You’ve been through hell and back. I gotta tell Ginger Ale you’re awake now, is that all right?” He waited until you nodded and left the room to call Ginger Ale. 

He came back and asked how you were feeling. “Sore, hurt.” You tried to smile, but grimaced. “But I guess that’s what happens after you’re tortured. I feel worse than after being tied up to the horses during the trials.” Jack just listened, unsure what to say. 

Ginger Ale entered and answered the rest of your questions regarding your health and wounds. They weren’t sure what exactly was done to you, but he listed your injuries and what was done to mend them. Broken legs and ankles, shattered shoulder, bruised ribs, concussion, cuts, loss of blood, and you arrived in a dangerous fevered state. Ginger Ale said you’d be in the hospital for at least a couple more weeks so they could monitor your progress and start physical therapy. 

\--

[You]

“Something happened between us.” You said to Jack a week after waking up. Jack’s heart stopped, but let you talk. “We were…dating…or something, right? But I don’t remember thinking you’d want to save me when I was in there…” 

“I worked day and night to find you, Darlin.’” Jack said gently. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. My mind’s still messed up.” You said, trying to clear the clouds in your mind. 

“No, you’re right, something happened between us too.” You watched as Jack looked away, sighed and smoothed his moustache, and then looked back at you. He held the back of his neck and said, “I…I cheated on you while you were away on a long mission.” He took a breath in, watching you slowly take it in, “And then you got taken.”

You quickly looked away from him and at your knees clad with the white hospital blanket. You scrunched your eyes, willing the memories to stop, but now that Jack had said it, you were flooded with them. Tears started at your ducts and you clutched your head with your hands. After the painful memories of Jack cleared, the memories inside the cell and torture chamber became clear too. You heard your heart rate increase quickly through the monitor and somewhere Jack was telling you to breathe, but your chest was tightening painfully. 

“Are you still seeing her?” You asked, still looking away from him. 

“What? No.” Jack said promptly. “I’m…I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you. I made such a big mistake. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but, I’m so so sorry.” 

You nodded and said, “I’d like to be alone right now.” 

Jack stared and nodded too, “Are you sure, Sugar?” 

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I’m sure.” 

Jack clenched his jaw and said, “Can I come back? I can’t bear being apart from you for long bab—” He bit his tongue before finishing that endearment. 

You remembered him begging you to be okay when he carried you away from your cell. You fiddled with your hands and nodded slowly. “Yeah…just, give me a couple days at least, okay?” 

He nodded and said, “I’ll give you anything you need. Anything you want.” And closed the door behind him. 

Luckily—or unluckily depending on how you looked at it—the nanite technology was working its magic and you were starting physical therapy. You cursed at how weak you were, trying to strengthen your muscles and improve your flexibility while the therapist encouraged you and helped you with your form. You wanted to yell that you were broken goods, that this was pointless, but you grit your teeth and kept going. You had survived hell and back, you could survive this road to recovery. 

You were so tired that you didn’t have time to think about Jack any further.

\--

Champ’s a busy man, being the head of Statesman and now also coordinating efforts with Kingsman. But he found some time to visit you.

“Y/N,” Champ said gently, as he opened the door and took the seat that Jack usually sat in.

“Hi, Champ.” You replied hesitantly. 

“I’m glad you’re here, safe.”

“Me too.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, sore, dull pain.” He looked at you as if to say _You know what I’m really asking._

“Physical therapy is hard. It’s difficult to sleep. I keep finding myself in the cell or that room again. Ginger Ale or the nurse has had to sedate me a couple times. I started talking to one of the Statesman therapist about it.”

“It’s good you’re getting help. Take your time healing. You’ve been through a lot.” He pat your good shoulder.” 

“Champ?”

“Yes’m?”

“Can I ask what Whiskey did while I was…taken?” 

Champ sighed and looked like he was going to reject your request but then said, “He was the one who alerted me and Ginger Ale that something was wrong. He begged me to be the one to find you. The techs in New York said he never left the office and wasn’t going to give up on you. When it was clear you were no longer in New York, we sent him here to make sure he doesn’t kill himself on his search for you. He was relentless in finding you.” 

You digested Champ’s words slowly. You weren’t sure how to feel. You didn’t think Jack would come after you. What he did to you—you thought he would’ve never chosen you. You’d assumed he would’ve been happy you were gone, a confrontation with you would’ve been one less thing to worry about. 

“…and no, he isn’t seeing anyone else. And hasn’t since he started the search for you.” Champ continued.

You looked at him guarded, “I didn’t ask that.”

“You didn’t have to, Y/N.” He looked at you sympathetically one more time before saying, “Please, let me or Ginger Ale or anyone know what you need or want help with.” You nodded and mumbled thanks before he left. 

\--

Simon would come and visit you when he wasn’t busy with missions or other work. He’d cheer you up and spend time with you. He’d also catch you up on life in and out of Statesman. 

“I heard you beat up Whiskey when I came back.” You said to him.

He blanched a little but then recovered smoothly, “Yeah? Well he hurt you.” 

“Thanks for caring about me.” You gave him a small smile.

Simon paused before asking, “Can I ask what he did?”

“He cheated on me.” You told him, sadly.

“That asshole.” Simon cursed.

“Yeah…” You replied, “I just—can’t stop thinking about him for some reason. When it’s not him, it’s the rooms. I don’t know why. When he’s here, near me, I feel…safer.” 

Simon grimaced, “Well, he does still seem pretty hung up on it.” He sighed, “I don’t like him, but if it’s helping you, maybe it’s okay. But let me know if he hurts you again and I’ll hit him harder next time.” You knew they were pretty evenly matched. While Simon was new, he was faster than Jack. You saw Simon looked guilty again, “I, uh, also told him you loved him…” 

“You what?” You exclaimed, surprised.

“Sorry! He asked after the fight. He was confused why I reacted so violently after I saw you…laying there…I was just so mad at him.” 

You groaned and for the first time in a while it was not because of physical pain. 

\--  
You’d been letting Jack visit you for short periods. The visits were always quiet, him not sure what to say not to make it worse. You, well, had too much on your mind to think of small talk. You didn’t want to bring up the mess that was your—whatever it was—with Jack. 

“Thank you…for letting me be here.” Jack said into the quiet one day. “I know you don’t really want me here, but…I need to see with my own eyes you’re here.” You looked up from your tablet and continued listening to him, “I really am sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for being scared of us together. I’m sorry for my weakness.” 

You let his apology hang in the air before saying, “Thank you for apologizing, Jack.” You saw his eyebrows rise in surprise and continued, “I don’t know if I can forgive you for everything right now. But, I am very thankful that you never gave up looking for me and that you saved me.” 

Jack nodded, “I can’t bear to think about a world where you’re not in it.” 

Silence continued to waft around you two before you broke it, “I feel…safer when you’re around, even when we’re not talking. The nightmares are easier to hold back.” 

Jack looked at you sadly, “Darling, I’ll fight those nightmares for you. I’ll be your shield. If you want me to.” 

“Thank you, Jack…I appreciate it.” Visits continued to be quiet, but more peaceful than before. 

\--

You were able to move into one of the small Statesman apartments on the main campus. They were there for injuries like yours, where Ginger Ale could have you close for monitoring and where you could easily go to therapy, both physical and emotional. You weren’t sure what strings Jack pulled with Champ that he was able to stay in Kentucky to be around you. Jack had asked if he could help you when you were discharged and you said you weren’t expecting anything from him. He wanted to, he insisted, and you allowed him to. He wouldn’t stay overnight, something too intimate you weren’t ready for. 

It almost reminded you of the mission where you broke your ribs. Jack bringing, or sometimes making, you food and eating with you. But now he also helped with your physical therapy exercises, assisted you to get to where you needed to go, and aided you any other way he could. He’d even try not to fight Gin when he came to visit. It helped that Gin would bring his sweet golden retriever. That dog always defused any tense situation. 

“I miss Arlo.” You said to Jack after Gin left. “I can’t believe I let him go.” 

Jack reddened, “I actually, wasn’t sure how you felt…but I missed him.” Your heart skipped a beat, “And I adopted him and I found out he wasn’t with you.”

“What—how?” you blubbered. 

“His tracking chip was still working. Luckily I got him before anyone else did.” 

You started crying, “I thought I lost him forever…” 

Jack gently wiped a tear away before handing you tissues. “Would you like to see him?”

“Yes! Yes! Please…” 

“I’ll be right back.” 

Jack came back with the dog you thought you’d forsaken. Your heart melted when Arlo greeted you as if you had just left him for a day at work. He scampered up to you on the couch, tongue hanging out happily, eyes bright and set on you. You tried picking him up, but yelped in pain. Before you knew it, Jack scooped him up and placed him on your lap. You held your dog close to you and he licked your tear stained face. You cooed apologies and kept petting him. 

“Jack, thank you—thank you.” You hiccupped. 

He smiled at you, “You’re welcome. He’s been good company and I’m glad you wanted to see him. He missed you.” Jack pat Arlo’s head who looked up at him happily. 

\--

Jack normally worked on his laptop in the living room and you had excused yourself to rest. With the bedroom door open for Arlo to wander around now, he heard you having a particularly intense flashback, the details which were fuzzy, but the feelings always clear. You were suffocating, dying and there was nothing you could do about it. Your limbs were heavy and you cried helplessly. Everything hurt and you begged it to stop. Something shifted around you slowly and your body relaxed suddenly. You woke up with Jack next to you, he had his arm around you but he was over the sheets and blankets that you were under. He was whispering words of reassurance in your ear and stroking your hair gently with his other hand. 

“Jack?” You whispered hesitantly. 

“I’m sorry, Darling. I can leave if you want. I just couldn’t bear seeing you in pain and this seemed to help.” 

“No, please don’t leave…It does help. Thank you. This is the first time I feel okay after sleeping without drugs or tiring myself out.” 

“I’m glad I’m able to help.” You felt him smile behind you. “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner. This is the first time I heard you screaming.”

“Yeah…I think I usually whimper and toss and turn. I…tried not to say anything when they had me and sometimes I revert to that. But sometimes I yell.” Jack continued to stroke your hair and murmuring comfort into your ear.

You put your hand tentatively on the one he had wrapped protectively around you. You felt him pause and then relax when you didn’t move to pull him off. “I’d…like it if you stayed the night. Like this. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

“Darling, I’ll be as close to you as you let me. I just want to be around you. I made a mistake pushing you away and letting you go. I won’t be doing that again.” 

You smiled small and squeezed his hand. And you both laid there in the quiet until sleep took you quietly under.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You try to get back in the field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thank you for the kudos! Shorter chapter as I had a hard time writing this week.
> 
> Words: 2k
> 
> Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader
> 
> Warnings: Mourning, Signs of PTSD due to previous chapters, violence

After a couple more weeks, Whiskey had to go back to New York. Tequila had been covering for him but Kingsman needed Tequila again. You were…okay. As okay as someone who’d been through what you have could. It was still difficult. You’d find times where you spaced out finding out hours had passed. Since Jack left, you hadn’t really been able to sleep well. Most nights stuck in your mind, nightmares locking you and preventing you from waking up. Ginger Ale reminded you that you had a couple days off, one you had planned months ago. You nodded in thanks for the reminder, feeling guilty you forgot about it. You packed your bags and got on a plane that would take you across the country. 

“Hey mom. Hey dad. Munchkins.’” You looked down at the stones of your family, denoting their names and birth and death dates. You arrived in San Luis Obispo the night before and made your way to the cemetery that morning. “Sorry I haven’t visited in so long…It’s. just. So hard.” You sighed and sat down next to them. “and it’s even harder now.” You sighted, trying to form words from the thoughts you’re thoughts and feelings. ”You taught me to help people. And I’m trying so hard. I just don’t know if I can right now. I miss you so much. I wish you were here. I’m so quick to anger nowadays…I don’t know what to do. I feel like a different person…” You told them about the nightmares and the anxiety, your missions and eventually told them about your trials , Simon, Champ, Ginger Ale… 

”And my situation with Whiskey is so difficult. With Jack. I still…care about him for some reason. But he hurt me so bad. And then others hurt me worse.” And you kept talking to them until the sun started setting. 

You exited the little cemetery, eyes blurry with tears and thought you were seeing things. But the man in the cowboy hat was really there. You went to ignore him and walk past him but he moved in front of you and he put his arms around you, offering support. You, weak with the fluid that had escaped with your tears throughout the day, just let him hold you. 

He saw you were distressed. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, muscles tense, unable to voice or contain your anguish. He just put his arms around you and wrapped you in them. You inhaled the scent of worn leather and wood, and tucked your head against his chest. He held you tight like a cocoon and when he felt you starting to relax, started drawing circles on your back, not letting you go. Time moved by at a snail’s pace as you remained in this moment, letting him comfort you, support you, and be the foundation you needed. You felt yourself able to relax a little and noticed the amount of tears that had wetted his shirt and the snot made a mess of the bullet proof Statesman jacket. He took one arm away just to pull a handkerchief from his pocket muttering it’s clean before handing it to you. 

The sun had truly set when you moved a little and he asked, “You wanna get inside? It’s gettin’ cold out here.” You nodded and he guided you to his rental car, somehow also a bronco, and you got into the passenger seat. 

“I’m staying at Pismo Beach.” You said, though he seemed to be navigating there already. Your family was buried near your grandparents, who had settled on the central coast of California.

“I know.” He said softly. 

“How?” You asked, not expecting that answer.

He hesitated, “You told me that was where you liked to stay. When you came to visit your family.” You hadn’t even remembered telling him that story. He saw your confused face and said, “You told me when we were getting dinner in New York, a few months after you became an agent.” When you didn’t say anything he asked, “Do you want to get some grub? You’ve been out there all day, right?”

“Yeah…” you said softly, “How about tri-tip sandwiches…”

“Sounds mighty fine to me.” 

\--

You felt numb, and he let you be, but not at the cost of hurting yourself. “Sweetheart, you’re going to have to eat something.” Jack said after he waited to see if you’d do more than stare at your food. He picked up a fry and dipped it in ranch as he’d seen you do too many times to count. “Here.” 

You took the fry and slowly ate it. It was easier to do what someone else told you to do than make yourself do something. 

He smiled sadly and handed you another fry after that. After a few more fries, he prodded you to start eating your sandwich and you did so slowly, methodically. It was too hard to do more than one thing at once. 

He parked the car and got out with you. You looked at him quizzically. “I, uh, got a room here too. I hope that’s okay.” He waited until you nodded and you entered the lobby. He walked side by side, but instead of turning left towards the elevators to the rooms, you turned right towards the exit to the beach. It took him a beat to realize you weren’t headed in for the night. “Where you going, Honey?” 

You still weren’t so sure about the pet names, but kept quiet on that and kept walking. You wanted the sea air, to feel the sand beneath your feet as you used to when your family would come and visit your grandparents during the summer. Jack didn’t push you to respond and followed you out. He let you be with yourself inside your head, but put his leather jacket around you when you started shivering. 

“You can go inside, you know.” You said to him. 

“I know.” He said. “I’d rather be here for you.” 

You nodded. You walked up and down the beach, thinking, and listening to the calm swish of the waves lazily cresting onto the shore, until you got to a swing set. You and Jack took a seat and swung slowly. 

“How’d you know I’d be here?” You asked him into the quiet of the night against the cool whisper of the waves. 

“You told me some months ago you wanted to come out and see them this day. After we had gone ATVing on the sand dunes, you told me it reminded you of this beach.” You nodded and weren’t sure how to feel. You just started telling him more stories. About your parents, your siblings, your grandparents. Camping, seeing the elephant seals, hiking the seven of the nine sisters, learning archery. And he just listened and let you talk. And when you started talking about the events of the more recent painful events, he just continued to listen. 

“I’m sorry.” He said into the quiet after you stopped talking and listened to the waves. 

You looked at him and nodded. “Thank you. And thank you for being here.” 

“Of course, Darlin.’”

\--

You closed your eyes and took a breath in before exiting the stairs of the Statesman plane. It was your first mission back in the field. You weren’t 100% yet, but you were good enough to gather some surveillance and keep your head down. It had been a month since your trip to California.

The mission went fine. You were leaving the bar you had sat at as you listened to you quarry after you placed the tracking gel, pretending to bump into him. You heard a woman scream from the alley. “Get off of me!” She yelled. 

“Come on sweetheart, you know you want this.” You heard a male voice say as you turned into the alley.

“No!” You saw her struggling and jumped into action, pulling him off of her and kneeing him in the groin and punching him in the gut before throwing an elbow across his face. He didn’t have a chance to figure out what was going on before you were on top of him, throwing fists to his face. You were seeing red and hearing the thump of your fists beating flesh. 

“Vodka. Vodka! VODKA!” You don’t know how long Ginger Ale had been yelling through your glasses, but you were breathing heavy and covered in his blood. You looked around and didn’t see anyone else.

“Is the woman okay?” You asked. 

“Yes, she ran off once you pulled him off her and I verified with security cameras she got home…You better get out of there.” You nodded and quickly left the scene. 

\--

Jack knocked and entered your office after you had said to come in. You stared as he placed a hot chocolate and red velvet cake on your desk. 

“What’s this for?” You asked. It was pretty early for dessert. Not that you minded. 

“I thought you’d like a pick me up.” You groaned. You’d been back in New York for a couple weeks now. But you lost control in the field again. Luckily it didn’t jeopardize the mission, but the bodyguards that were protecting the megalomaniac were no longer recognizable after the beating you gave them. Jack had come in after dealing with the external guards and pulled you off of the target before ending his life. He was needed alive for evidence of his wrongdoing. That was a few hours ago and you were working on the mission report.

You took a sip of the sweet liquid and relished in how it warmed your chest. “Thanks.” You muttered quietly. “Why do you remember these things?”

Jack took a seat in your guest chair and looked at you earnestly. “Because I care about you.” He gave you a small smile, “I think about you all the time. I think about how I messed up. How I hurt you. How I wish I could be the one to make you smile again.” 

“Jack, I…” You started.

“I know. You can’t trust me. And if you never want to see me again, I’ll stay out of your way and only discuss work, and as needed.” He said and you saw the honesty in his eyes. You could feel him slipping out of your grasp. 

“I don’t want to push you away.” You said softly, “Can we…just take it slow?” You took a deep breath. “I’m not ready for anything serious…so I understand if you don’t want that and if you want to see other people.” You took another breath “and…if you want to have sex with other people…I don’t want to bring you down.” Your chest tightened as you said, “But if you do, I…don’t know if we should be friends. I…think that would hurt me too much.” You looked away, embarrassed at your truth. 

He grimaced as you reminded him of his mistake. He took your hand in his. “Hon, I’ve realized I only want to be with you. And I’ll wait for you, you take as long as you need. And I’ll be right here supporting you as long as you want me. And I won’t be with anyone else.” 

You nodded and held his hand tight. You thought about the stress of the earlier mission and said impulsively, “Do you think Champ would give us some time off…to be away from all this for a little bit?”

Jack was thoughtful and shrugged, “No harm in asking.” And he put his headphones on, signaling you to do the same before calling Champ, who answered promptly.  
“Champ,” Whiskey said in greeting. “We—Vodka and I—need some time off. Away from Statesman, away from New York.”

Champ responded, “I can’t be down any longer, agents.” But he looked at you as he looked away, dejected.

“Yes, sir.” You said, getting ready to sign off and get back to your report.

Champ sighed, “Well, you both did just complete a mission. I can give any new cases to Kingsman. But figure this out. I love y’all, but I’m not tolerating any more of this complicated thing you’re doing! And you will answer calls especially if there’s an emergency. No more of this going dark business. Only when it’s an absolute necessity.” He grumbled about training his spies too well and how he should be able to find you. 

“Thanks, Champ.” You and Jack replied before ending the holovideo. 

Jack grinned at you, “So where do you want to go?”


End file.
